Those Charming Miss Bennets
by ruby gillis
Summary: Kitty and Mary Bennet are the last two unmarried Bennet girls, and are sent to London to live with Elizabeth and Darcy and find husbands. Kitty is afraid that the London ton will find her and her sister dowdy and provincial and so she stretches the truth
1. Chapter 1

A woman's life cannot be said to be complete until she has found herself a husband. From her earliest entrée into social life she must be seen to be charming, attractive and accomplished. If a mamma does her best by her daughters they will be sure to succeed in such endeavors.

The two last unmarried ladies of Longbourn had the unhappy luck of having a mother who was not mastered in the art of such a pursuit, and as such they were only rather pretty, vibrant girls with no talents or connexions to recommend them. Mrs. Bennet despaired heartily of them ever making a match, without at all attributing this fault to any of her own behaviour.

"What ever is to be done?" she moaned from her settee by the fire. "There is no one around for our girls to marry. We do not even have any prospects since the Breretons have taken their sons and moved to Kent. Their stay was so short – we did not even have the chance of meeting them. If we had met them I could surely have talked them into a match with our girls as I did for both Jane and Lizzy. But they took no interest in us, and so dear Kitty and Mary are sure to be turned out of Longbourn when you die, Mr. Bennet."

"Have you no hope that I will be long-lived?" her husband asked from behind his paper.

"None at all," sighed his wife. "And there is no hope that the Collinses will be good to our girls when you are gone. Charlotte Collins is increasing yet again and it is sure to be another boy. With two sons to be provided for they will quite forget to be kind to our girls. _I_ might go to live with Jane and Bingley at Netherfield or Lizzy and Darcy at Pemberley when you are gone, husband, and they will not mind giving a mother her due place. But one does not accept a sister like a mother. Our girls will never have homes of their own – they will have to wander from place to place – they are sure to be seen as a burden, and will become hated and despised by all who know them."

"Perhaps it is not as bad as all that, mamma," said Catherine, a pretty girl of one and twenty, who did not look at all alarmed by her mother's dour predictions. She was used to hearing them at least once a day, and had taken to rebuffing them as good-naturedly as is possible for a girl of one-and-twenty with three married sisters and no prospects.

"Oh! It is – and worse than that, for you and Mary lack all the beauty and charms of Lizzy and Lydia and Jane; you are quite sillier than any of them."

"I think they cannot be said to be sillier than Lydia, at the very least, Mrs. Bennet."

"Oh! Mr. Bennet – how can you abuse our dear Lydia so? When she is your youngest, and has named her little boy for you! You might have more compassion for a mother's feelings!"

"And you," replied Mr. Bennet, "May have more compassion for your two girls, madam. You are correct in saying that they are not beauties, nor charming, but you might not offend them by calling them sillier than Lydia Wickham. And it is not as bad as you make it out – if Kitty were to laugh less and Mary to put down her books any number of men could be fooled into taking them."

"What is the use, what is the use!" Mrs. Bennet could not think of an appropriate response so instead fell back against her pillows.

Mary, who was as usual ensconced in a lengthy text, out of which she got little knowledge or satisfaction, merely turned the page and Kitty sewed on, working a piece of embroidery that was neither fine nor delicate.

"You might," remarked Mr. Bennet, after some time had elapsed, during which there were many vain flutterings and sighs from his wife, "Send them to Lizzy for a season. My Lizzy is a capable girl and will no doubt find them husbands if any are to be found."

"Do you mean to say," asked Mrs. Bennet with some spirit, "That _I _cannot do my duty by my daughters? Mr. Bennet!" She rolled her eyes with woe.

"I would never go so far as to suggest any thing so ridiculous as _that_," said Mr. Bennet. "It is only convenient that Lizzy is staying in London for the winter. I had a letter from her to-day, and by the sound of it, London is simply teeming with potential husbands for our girls."

Mrs. Bennet looked interested for a moment and then shook her head.

"It is no use – Lizzy has her children to attend to – and Darcy would not let them go to parties or balls as he runs a very sober household indeed. He was so cross when I visited last summer, and any time I tried to say anything gay or suggest a party he put his hands to his head as if the thought of any fun made it ache!"

"Perhaps it was not the thought of parties that made it ache."

"What on earth else could have made him behave so?"

"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Bennet, "He was coming down with the ague."

"_There_ is another thing," pointed out Mrs. Bennet, in a triumphant voice. "Our girls are sure to catch something foul if they go, for London is a most filthy city. Likely they will die from it, too, since they are neither of them in good health, but sickly, pale things. Do not you think so, Mr. Bennet?"

"I think no such thing – but if you are determined they should not go, then I must abide by your decision. And all of these bachelors Lizzy writes about shall catch wives that are much sillier than our girls – for sillier girls than ours do exist, Mrs. Bennet. And Mary will attain the age of three-and-twenty and Kitty two-and-twenty without any husband on the horizon."

When it was put that way, Mrs. Bennet did not mind the alternative. "There are doctors in London," she mused. "And if you died of ague, Kitty, it would almost be for the best, for as least we would not have to decide what would be done with you if you do not find a husband at all."

"That is true, mamma," agreed Kitty, very earnestly, for she wanted badly to go to London.

"And we will need new dresses for both of you." Mrs. Bennet's eyes had taken on a gleam, for she dearly loved the excitement and frills of dressmaking. "And a carriage should be booked to take you to Hunsford and you can switch to the stage there …"

"But first I shall write to Lizzy and ask if they might go, Mrs. Bennet," said her husband. "And is there no chance you would like to go with the girls? You could oversee their conquests. It would be so helpful to have a mother's eye in that critical process."

"Mr. Bennet! Do not be so ridiculous! I shall have to stay here and plan the nuptials – for I feel certain now that Lizzy will find them husbands so suitable that we will have a double wedding this time next year at the latest. And I could not leave you all alone. Perhaps I shall write to my sister Phillips and she will come and we will keep you company while our girls are gone. A fortnight with the both of us to cheer you – at least! Does not that sound a delightful prospect?"

"Delightful," Mr. Bennet confirmed dryly, and went off to his study to write a long letter to his daughter Elizabeth, who was, he reflected, the only really sensible woman in their connexion.


	2. Chapter 2

Catherine did not make a habit of confiding in her sister Mary, but with closest sister Lydia gone and married for six years' time she had begun to do so more and more. For her part, Mary did not seem to mind the chatter, but neither did she seek it out or welcome it. That did not stop Kitty from offering it up, however; and to-night she did so with especial vigor.

"I shall ask mamma to let me have a new velvet gown for London," she told Mary, who set aside her great tome with some annoyance. "Lydia writes that she has two velvet gowns this season in green and yellow though Lord knows where Wickham has gotten the money for them. I shall get mine in blue. It is a colour Lydia has never been able to wear with any success. Her skin is so brown. And I think you ought to get a new hat, Mary. The one you have now is out of date and we will be living in one of the most fashionable households in London, you know."

"I had much rather we go and see Jane," said Mary plaintively, "For though Bingley's library is not as extensive as Mr. Darcy's, I much prefer it. He has many more religious texts and some of Darcy's books are scandalous."

"What! Would you rather to be tucked away in Netherfield, only a short ride from here? How could you prefer that? There will be no balls or parties – there have not been any since the Breretons' going away fete. In London there will be a party every day and a ball every night."

"I should think that you would be more enamored of the idea of seeing Lizzy again after so long," Mary said piously. "Rather than excited at the ideas of balls and fetes."

"Lord! Lizzy chides me so. Perhaps she won't now that she has children of her own to occupy her. Although she was never satisfied with me when she lived at home, and I hardly expect her to be now."

Catherine took a rather hard view of herself; it was true that Eliza Darcy had been none too proud of her sister when she was Eliza Bennet. She made no secret of the fact that she thought Kitty to be a weak, chattering thing and despaired that she would ever find sense enough to make her an equal – or even Jane's equal – in spirit, much less in decorum.

The six years since Lydia had gone away, first to Newcastle and then to Bath, had cured Kitty somewhat of her simpering nature. She was now a more respectable girl who knew a little bit more of her own mind and was able to hold her tongue for five minutes at a stretch, which, her father said, was a sign that perhaps she had grown a bit less silly; though it was unlikely the silliness would ever leave her character entirely.

Mary had at last learned to say some sensible things from all the book she had read and she replied,

"If you are a good girl and mind your manners, Lizzy will be satisfied with you, as she would have been if you had acted so when she was at home."

"We have not seen Lizzy for long though we see Jane always," said Kitty thoughtfully. "I hope that the Darcy children will be better behaved than Jane's if we are to share a house with them. Thomas is for-ever shouting and sending me into nervous fits. The Darcy's house in town is said to be very grand. I shall have to ask mamma to let me have a new robe and some warm slippers for it is likely to have a great many draughts – I shall go and ask her now!"

"We do not even know if Lizzy will say she wants us!" cried Mary – but Kitty had already gone.

Elizabeth Darcy did want to see her sisters very much, for it had been four years since she had last set eyes on them, and she wrote that she was curious to see what kind of girls they had become. Her father assured Lizzy that the girls had grown not in leaps and bounds when it came to sense or decorum, but Elizabeth wanted to make her own judgments, and so to London for the winter the girls would go.

Kitty got her new velvet gown and even Mary received a new gown and hat, though she did not especially want one, being not at all interested in fine clothes. Most of the room in her trunk was taken up with books.

"Lord! Why should you want to take so many books, Mary?" asked Kitty in amazement. "I do not think that you should; everyone shall think you are a blue-stocking. For though men like books, they do not like women to like books. It is not in a man's nature. "

"Oh! Kitty you must hush," Mrs. Bennet, who had overheard, rejoined. "If you knew about a man's nature you would have caught a husband by now and we would not be in this mess!"

At this remark Catherine coloured, for she had a good opinion of her mother and took her word as credible, and did not realize that Mrs. Bennet's lack of finesse could be the reason why her two remaining girls did not have husbands; that her other three had made matches quite despite their mamma's interference.

"You must remember, Mrs. Bennet," said Mr. Bennet ominously, "That our one daughter who _did_ know the nature of men all too well very nearly caught no husband for herself."

"I will not have you disparage Lydia again and again!" cried Mrs. Bennet, all ruffled feathers. "Let us talk of more pleasant things – all the balls and parties you will attend in London, girls! I am sure that Lizzy will hold a ball for you at Mr. Darcy's house. You must send kisses from me to Lizzy and Fitzwilliam and to the children from their dear grandmamma. Oh, how I miss my Lizzy – and you must urge them to visit most strongly – remind dear Darcy that my health is poor and surely they will plan a visit."

Mrs. Bennet, who had had no use for Elizabeth while she was at Longbourn, now quite considered her the favorite daughter. It is quite possible this correlation had something to do with the fact that Elizabeth had married better than the rest of her sisters. But Mrs. Bennet was not a deep soul and did not see the correlation. Instead she groaned in an unearthly voice and said,

"Dear, dear Lizzy – however do I manage here without her!"

"Would you rather us stay, mamma?" asked Mary. "If you cannot spare us I am sure Kitty and I could not leave you."

"Spare you!" cried Mrs. Bennet rudely. "Of course I can spare you, Mary, and Kitty as well. What good do you do me if you are here instead of getting husbands for yourselves in London?"

Her words made even Mary, who desired always to be a service to others, hang her head. Perhaps that is what made Mr. Bennet say, in a rare moment of tenderness,

"Your mother is putting on a brave front because she will miss you very much indeed. As soon as you have left, she will take to her couch and cry for an hour."

"Indeed I will n—"

"Hush, Mrs. Bennet! And here is your carriage, girls. Let us go and put you in it."

And so Catherine and Mary Bennet took their leave of Longbourn, after a rare kiss from their father and many flutterings and gloomy predictions from their mother, who became sure, as soon as her daughters set foot in it, that the carriage would be overturned and it and the girls smashed to bits.

"And then what would become of your lovely new gowns?" cried Mrs. Bennet in consternation, as the carriage rolled away.


	3. Chapter 3

The carriage was not smashed to bits, though the girls were very tired by the time they reached the Darcy's home in London. It was a fine house and somewhat imposing in its grandeur; they felt much more at home when the door opened and Elizabeth stepped out to greet them.

An immediate change in the character of her sisters was not readily apparent, but Eliza agreed that the both of them looked well and prettier than they had the last time she had seen them; that Kitty's new coat was quite the height of fashion and Mary's new hat was admittedly a little dowdy but nothing that Elizabeth's abigail could not fix with some trimming.

The girls were taken to their rooms, to lay off their things, and then to the nursery, where they cooed over the children, who looked amusingly like little copies of Darcy. Then they went down to the dining-room for a dinner that had been laid to welcome them.

Kitty was determined to show Lizzy her best manners, and so she asked after Mr. Darcy in a most decorous tone.

"Fitzwilliam! He has had some business to attend to in the North that he has put off because he does not wish to do it – but the moment he heard you were coming he took himself off to do it as fast as he could. He will likely be gone the whole time you are here."

"I am sorry to hear that," said Kitty, with real dismay, for she liked Darcy and had hoped to see him.

"Do not be offended – he was only afraid that the house would be overcome with women and he would be quite outnumbered. We are a house of females now that you are come, with us and Anne and little Georgina, and the maid and cook and servants. There is only the footman left to fight for his sex. Now tell me, girls, for we might as well get down to it – what sort of husbands would you like me to find for you?"

"I had never suspected," said Mary with some surprise, "That you would turn to match making, Lizzy."

"I have not turned to it – but mamma will not let me be until you are both married off. And I so desire to be let alone on this subject. So you must tell me and I will run down the list of bachelors in my head and have you married off within Tuesday se'en-night. What sorts of husbands do you prefer? Would you like a man that is dashing, or one with a heart of gold?"

Both Kitty and Mary had despaired so many times, because of their mother's predictions, of ever finding husbands; and so they had not ever thought of forming opinions on the subject. Elizabeth saw this and laughed.

"Never mind – I shall introduce you to a host of angelic men and then some wicked ones and you shall find out which type it is that you like best."

"I am surprised that you should know any wicked men at all!" cried Mary and Elizabeth said, with some dismay,

"Oh! Mary, you have not changed much! Go and get all the moralizing texts from your trunk and give them to me so that I can burn them. I am determined that by the time you leave this house I will endeavour to give you a sense of humour, even if it is the death of me – and I suspect it will be."

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The first party could not have come at a more opportune time, for after nearly a week in town they had seen all the sights and grown tired of sitting at home with the children.

"It is lucky that Lady Hester has taken a liking to you for she has decided to hold an _assemblee _in your honour," Elizabeth explained. "And you are lucky that Lady Hester is a particular friend of mine, for she is the most well-connected woman in London and everyone lives in fear of offending her and will turn out for it, though they do not have any earthly idea who you are."

"How marvelous!" cried Kitty, who had been looking forward to her first party from the moment she had set foot in the Darcy's home.

"Marvelous indeed," said Eliza. "Now, Mary, go and put your gowns in my room and I will have my maid look them over and pick one out. Do not protest – I hardly trust you after seeing what a state your hat was in; and if you go to your first assembly in a dress that is less than the height of fashion you will acquire a reputation for being a terrible dowd, and that is a state of character from which you will never recover for as long as you are in town."

Mary's gown was fixed and after Lizzy had her maid set an ornament in her hair, and confiscated her spectacles, she looked almost as well as Kitty, who always took especial care of her clothes.

"And now we shall go to Symington House," said Elizabeth with satisfaction, and led the way to her carriage.

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Lady Hester Symington was a widow who had had six daughters of her own – all of whom were now well-married with babes in the nursery. She found life had grown very dull with no daughters to marry off and was only too happy to assist the ladies of London with prospects for their own girls. She especially liked Elizabeth Darcy, who had charmed her, and had the added fortuity to be a close neighbor. Lady Hester had already promised Eliza that when it was time for small Anne and Georgina to come out she would find them husbands within a season, and she bade Elizabeth to put a friendly bet on it, so sure she was of winning. Elizabeth, who remarked that it would be some time before her girls needed husbands of their own, seeing as though they were still in cradles, promised to avail herself of Lady Hester's services at the point in the future; in the mean time, here were her sisters come from the country and in dire need, she assured the widow, of a true expert's help.

Lady Hester loved to talk and talk she did, and Elizabeth, who was a master listener, turned her ear with a real interest and humour that won Lady Hester's heart in a way that other, polite listeners could not.

London was teeming with new arrivals that season – almost every week there was another girl or two who had been sent by her mamma to find a husband. At the start of it every one had shown interest – now that it was not a rare occurrence they found it hard to muster excitement for a new arrival. For was not one well-bred young lady like any other? All of Lady Hester's guests regarded the Bennet girls coolly as they entered and then went back to their conversations with no more notice of them than that.

But Lady Hester greeted them with real aplomb, taking each girl in a crushing embrace, springing back and exclaiming that she had better not mess their pretty curls, then saying dash their curls and taking them up in another grasp that made them laugh with real delight though their ribs ached from her ministrations. Then she addressed them,

"You are two pretty girls and although your gowns are not in the height of fashion," here Kitty's face fell in true consternation, "I dare say it will make no difference once the men have caught sight of you for you do not have the horsey look of so many other girls in town. There is only the question of getting them to catch sight of you for we are all sorely bored by new arrivals, it is so tiresome to always be meeting someone new. What is your fortune – perhaps I can circulate it about. The fastest way to a man's heart is through his pocket – four or five hundred a year? Well, do not let your pretty mouth frown, it is no obstacle, we shall only have to go another route. Do you sing? No? Well, no matter. Mr. Worth – I beg you come and meet my new friend Catherine Bennet. She has the most beautiful singing voice, she is quite like a bird, twittering from the tree-tops all the day. No, she will not sing for us tonight – she is a bit hoarse, but not from any sickness, she enjoys always the perfect health. Another time she will for certain, I am sure of it, when she is feeling better."

"But I do not sing at all," laughed Kitty.

"Oh! Who cares – he will only go away remembering that I told him something good about you; next time you meet he will not be able to remember what it is. Now take my arm, girls, one on each side and we shall circulate. When you see a man you like the cut of give me a pinch and I will stop and introduce you to him."

The thusly circulated, Kitty and Mary each on either side of Lady Hester's formidable personage, Elizabeth following close behind. Lady Hester shared little bits of gossip about each man in her line of vision. It was unlucky that the place was so crowded, for it was loud, and Lady Hester sometimes had to shout so they could hear her words; and others nearby could not help overhearing, which made the girls blush.

"There is Mr. Ward. He is terribly wealthy but it is from tobacco, which is a most unsavoury trade. I only asked him because I met him on the street when I was asking Mr. Tomkins and his sister to come and I could not get out of it. Hello, dear Mr. Ward! How are you this evening – oh, and there is Sir Joshua Young but you may close your eyes to him. Maria Wintour has got her claws so far in him it is a wonder he does not howl. Maria," raising her voice an increment, "How well you look tonight, dear, and Sir Joshua, you appear to be a most attentive escort. You are well to stick by her side, for if you do not, someone else is sure to snap her up. And that is true enough," said Lady Hester, lowering her voice imperceptibly, "For though she has a face like a weasel her fortune is forty thousand pounds, and Sir Joshua, despite his title, always gambles his money away faster than he seems to have it."

Kitty could not bring herself to pinch Lady Hester's fleshy arm, but she did say, meekly,

"There is a nice looking gentleman in the corner there. Do you know who he is?"

"I know who everyone is!" boomed Lady Hester. "That is one Mr. James Wyeth. His family lives at Pulborough which is a fine estate in …Somerset." The truth was that Lady Hester had forgotten exactly where Pulborough was, but she did not want her young listeners to know that. "The Wyeths made their money in trade, I must admit, but it was so long ago that everyone has forgotten which particular trade they made it in; and dear James is quite the gentlemen as his father and grandfather were and so on. It is unfathomable why no one has made him a Duke or Earl or something by now. I say, Mr. Wyeth, come over here, if you will!"

"Oh, do not call him over," begged Kitty, but it was too late, for Mr. Wyeth had come when Lady Hester bid him.

He was a man of no outstanding appearance; neither too tall nor too short. His hair was dark and his face was a bit more symmetrical than most; the only thing that set him apart from any other man in the room was the fact that he did not seem to be enjoying the conversation he was in the middle of. His dark brows had drawn together and his eyes were roaming, though in every other respect he looked as polite as could be; but he did not seem to mind disentangling himself when Lady Hestor beckoned him to her.

"I would like to introduce you to the Misses Bennet," said Lady Hester to him. "They are dear friends of mine. The one on the left is Miss Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, and on the right you will see Miss Catherine. Oh, I've gotten you mixed up? That is Miss Bennet on the right, then, Mr. Wyeth, and Miss Catherine is _à gauche._"

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," said Mr. Wyeth, cordially enough, after making his bow, "For I overheard, my lady tell you some faulty information that I must correct. Pulborough is in the county of Sussex, not Somerset, and my great-grandfather made his living in shipping."

He made another bow, and excused himself, but he did not go back to his previous conversantes, but rather excused himself and went out of doors onto the little _patio_.

"Oh! How abrupt of him," said Lady Hester with some distaste. "However, James is a man of few words and never draws attention to himself, and by his volunteering so much information I think we can suppose that he is in love with you."

"With which one of us?" asked Mary perplexedly, but Lady Hester had already moved on to a different topic and did not hear her when she asked.


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Wyeth did not talk to the Misses Bennet again that night; nor did any one else strike up a conversation with them of their own free will, though everyone was most happy to meet them as long as they were near Elizabeth or on Lady Hester's arm. It was not that the other guests did not like Mary and Kitty; it was more that they had their own thoughts and exploits to occupy them. But Kitty, when she was not being squired about by her sister or Lady Hester, had the disappointing sensation of being entirely overlooked.

Even imperceptive Mary must have noticed something was amiss, for when the girls returned to the Darcy's house on Regent Street, and were safely tucked in their bed chamber, she turned to her sister and said,

"So we have had our first party – and I do not think I want to go to another! I never had the feeling of so many eyes watching me. It was most unpleasant."

"_Did_ you really feel that way?" asked Kitty drearily, "_I_ never felt any one's eyes on me the whole night. I never felt so insignificant, Mary. No one wished to talk to us or took any notice of us. We might have been part of the wall-paper for all the regard showed us! And the party was in our honour!"

Kitty really felt very badly and reflected at that moment if it would not hurt poor Lizzy's feelings she would wish to go back to Longbourn on the morrow.

"You cannot expect such cultured, civilised people to take any notice of us," said Mary quite sensibly, "We are only country girls, and have little to recommend us."

"Oh! You have been too long listening to mamma – I do not believe we are so uninteresting as all _that_."

"I only mean, sister, that we are so out of their circle and have not done anything as of yet to capture their attention." For once Mary was quite on the mark, though she wandered off again when she said, "We must try to capture their attention by doing good works and being sweet and accomplished in the arts and learning. That is the way to become noticed. I heard a clergy-man to-night, talking to someone's mamma, and he said that very thing; and he is right and I shall strive to act in that pattern the next time we go to Lady Hester's. It is sure to be just the thing – that is my theory."

Mary very much liked to be noted as a woman of great decorum and accomplishment and this notion pleased her and she resolved to undertake it.

Kitty very much liked to gossip, and so she asked, "How do you find Lady Hester?"

"Oh! I feel as though she is not a good person at all – but I cannot quite bring myself to disapprove of her. I feel," said Mary, slowly, "That I rather like her – despite myself."

"At times she was horrid and she told a group of people that I played pianoforte and the harp – and another man that I could sing," said Kitty, who did none of those things with any talent at all. "But she was most persuasive and believable; and even then no one took notice of me besides to simper and then go away – so you are quite off the mark with your 'theories,' Mary!"

Mary had grown tired of talking about it and wished to sleep for it was very late.

"Perhaps it is for the best," said she, "For there are many scandals likely to be going around; London is such a scandalous town. And it is much better not to be noticed at all than to be made notorious."

Kitty was not so sure of it and wished to talk it over, but Mary was adamant; she blew out the candle and went to bed, and there were no more words between them that night.

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Elizabeth, however, wished to talk over the party in the morning; and though the girls did not wish to offend their sister and gave in to exclamations of joy and rapture over their party, Elizabeth was astute and did not miss the disappointment that they tried so hard to deny.

"I had hoped it would not be so," she said, ruefully, "But you are likely to be overlooked at the moment through no fault of your own. It seems that a young Miss Evanston has lately run away with a man, an artist, and as she was from a good family and has been cast out, it is all any one is talking over at the moment. She was engaged to a Mr. Wyeth – perhaps you met him at the party?"

"Lord! Yes – no wonder he was so cross. He seemed a very good man, Lizzy. Why should that Miss Evanston have wanted to run away with an artist instead of marrying him?"

"She had no liking for Wyeth at all," Elizabeth explained, "But was forced into the liaison by her mamma. You must remind me never to force small Anne or Georgina into marrying anyone whom they do not chuse, Kitty and Mary, for I do not want them running away with artists. I like all kinds of creative people except for artists, for they are always sketching about and have such keen, quick eyes that they do not miss any thing; they make me entirely uncomfortable. But I shall hold a little ball for you here this week-end and by that time every one shall have forgotten poor Miss Evanston and we shall try again, with more success, I should think."

The rest of the morning was spent planning out the ball, what they would eat and the new gowns they would have made, for Lizzy put her foot down and said that it must be so,

"I knew I should never left the dressmaking to mamma; you had entirely too many frills and not in the places where they would be best to your advantage."

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Elizabeth was right – people were much more cordial at the ball, and Kitty found herself with a partner for most of the dances, though she still felt like an out-sider, and wished that she could engage in the easy badinage of the London people. She was well aware that something in her bearing must make her seem very provincial to the fine London ladies, for though her dress and jewels were fashionable, all of the females in the room were overly kind to her, which Kitty had enough sense to know meant that they had been talking her over only moments before. She was tongue-tied and self conscious and had little to say to the men who politely squired her around the dance floor.

She was glad when the dancing stopped and Mary took to the pianoforte. It had been agreed that she would play one song; and one song only, with an encore if she was asked. Elizabeth had been most stringent on this point, remembering, perhaps, the days of the Meryton balls, where Mary would play longer and more loudly than was required of her.

Mary's playing had improved, but only through much practise and a concentration of will; and so she looked very stern while she played and she had not mastered the art of playinig with any emotion. She made for a very dull performer; a girl who was seated next to Kitty on the sofa leaned over to whisper,

"La! Your sister does not look very happy at all. What can be the matter with her? She cannot be a very pleasant girl if she looks so – her face is frightful grave."

Kitty was not in the habit of taking up for Mary; indeed, she was her worst critic by spells. But she did not like the idea of this stranger, with a peacock feather in her headband saying such things about a member of her family, and so she replied, coldly,

"My sister is usually the most pleasant of girls; it is only that lately she has had a difficult time."

She only meant that Mary was apt to fits of nerves before she played and often played very stiffly when in front of a crowd; but she enjoyed it for reasons Kitty could not fathom. However, the girl got the wrong end of it and said, gravely,

"Has she been _disappointed_? My dear!"

Kitty reflected uncertainly that Mary _had_ been disappointed since coming to London; with the lack of success of the last party and the fact that Lizzy had confiscated all of her religious texts; she nodded her assent without realizing what it would mean.

"Oh! Who can it be?" the other girl wondered aloud. "Who can be the man whose desertion so lately left her desolate!"

"If you mean the our neighbors the Breretons," said Kitty with some confusion, "They left Longbourn nearly four months ago."

"Four months! And has she been pining for him since? Why, I know Miss Brereton a little – it must her brother, her eldest brother of whom you speak? I knew of them being away in the country but I did not know that he had formed any attachment – !"

Kitty suddenly realized what the girl thought and said, "No, you are quite mistaken, it is nothing like that!"

"I understand you perfectly," said the girl, "You have no need to fear, for I am the soul of discretion. I shall leave you now. _Adieu_."

With that the young lady swept off, and Kitty was asked to dance and did so merrily; when her partner bowed and went away from her another man came up to claim her for the next; and the next; and so she did not hear the rumour that was suddenly circulating and could not put a stop to them. It is unlikely that she could have stopped it even if she had the chance to do so, for when a roomful of ladies and gentlemen have decided to gossip, then gossip they shall.

By the end of the night, almost the entire roomful of guests knew that Miss Bennet had had a romance with a young fellow; possibly one of the Breretons, lately of Derbyshire and now of Kent; and it had met with a disappointing end. Yet here she was, playing the pianoforte with such diligence! How brave! They were all solicitiously kind to Mary, who was quite perplexed and met prying questions with confused denials, which made them like her all the more.

They all reflected that this must be the reason the Misses Bennet had been sent to stay with Eliza Darcy, and now that there was an interesting story attached to their name, they all resolved to take better notice of them in the future and became glad to make their acquaintance.


	5. Chapter 5

Not even in London is there a ball or party every night – some evenings during the week, genteel folk are obliged to spend in-doors, with friends or family; for every fete they attended, Catherine and Mary spent two nights in such a manner, with Lizzy and Lady Hester to keep them quiet company.

Neither of the two women had heard the fantastic rumours circulating about Mary's supposed love affair with David Brereton; Lizzy because she had acquired a reputation for discouraging gossip and so those who knew her refrained from gossiping in her presence, however diligently they may do it when she was not around. She was like her husband in that respect – her mood could grow very black when she was displeased, and gossip always displeased her, for Elizabeth knew how quickly an unsullied reputation could be ruined and maligned by such errant circulation. Her years as Mrs. Darcy had not taken away from her air of fun but she had now grown more prudent, and knew when to keep a quiet tongue, and when to bid others to do so as well.

Lady Hester, who loved gossip, had not heard for that very reason; she had a habit of exclaiming over each juicy tidbit and then pronouncing that she knew it was so, had always known it to be so. She commandeered every bit of gossip she heard, ever rumour was catalogued, and she often took credit for being the first to know something when she had been the last, which every one found very tiresome – as a consequence, they left her out.

Mary had grown more accustomed to the atmosphere of parties, but was still more comfortable by the fire. Since Lizzy had taken and hidden all of her thick, dusty books she had taken up painting skreens to occupy herself; she would not touch what she deemed to be 'such scandalous' books in Darcy's library. She had already painted two skreens which Lady Hester pronounced the height of elegance and Lizzy quickly relegated to unused bed-chambers where they would seldom be seen.

Kitty, who loved parties even more after her stint in town, was more than happy to spend a night at home until the fuss about Mary and the Brereton heir died down. She could not bring herself to tell Lizzy about the misunderstanding; and she had heard another girl speak of the fictional affair quite as fact at a supper-party two nights ago. She lived in dread that someone would mention it to Mary, but no one did mention it to Mary, however they might have wanted to. They mistook her quite obliviousness as a brave face and as gossip-hungry as they might be, no one wanted to see what was behind the mask. Young ladies were so often sensitive about failed love affairs.

Lady Hester often came over in the evenings to share juicy tid-bits; though she was often left out of the loop she gleaned plenty of information on her own. She never called it gossip, and refrained from telling hurtful stories, but kept her remarks safely confined to affairs of match-making and fashion, and so Elizabeth could not but approve. But tonight she had a particular story to tell; however, before she would impart any gossip she did her polite duty by asking after every member of the family and some besides.

"How is dear Georgiana?" she asked with much affection, folding her hands over her ample bosom and putting her feet by the fire. Her affection could have been taken as a put-on, for Lady Hester had never met Mr. Darcy's only sister; however, she loved Darcy, and so it followed that his sister would be an adorable creation, just the kind of girl that she could love. So Lady Hester loved her.

"Oh! Georgiana is well," said Lizzy, who was playing with one of her little girls. "She is back from her wedding tour and should be settled in Crimpton by the new year and we are so glad; for it is only seventeen miles from Pemberley and it will be so nice to have her near."

"I was ever so happy when I heard she was to marry her cousin Fitzwilliam," said Lady Hester, "It is just as it should have been arranged and it is a true love match! For I heard it told that Colonel Fitzwilliam had not seen her since she was a girl and when he saw her again he fell deeply in love with her, and her with him, and it could not have worked out for the better, and that is the way I heard it happened."

"That is just the way it happened, indeed," said Lizzy, with a smile, for she had been the one who told Lady Hester the story.

"And your sister Jane is doing just as well, I know she is, for she is ever so sweet and good. Is she not?"

Lady Hester had likewise never met Jane Bingley but had read excerpts from her letters to Lizzy and considered her a bosom friend.

"Jane is perfection as always; she and Bingley will have a new addition by the summer. That will make four children to my two and we have both been married the same length of time! Kitty and Mary have brought me a parcel from Netherfield with their trunks, let me show you what was in it. Dear Jane!"

For Jane had sent two gorgeous dresses for little Anne and Georgina, wonderfully embroidered from shoulder to hem and fearfully ruffled, which was the stile.

They went through the entire relation of Bennets and Darcys, and even the Collinses; for Lady Hester had met them on their recent visit to town and disliked Mr. Collins as much as she adored Mrs. Collins. Elizabeth and her sisters assured Lady Hester that all and sundry were well, perfectly well. Then, and only then, would Lady Hester part with the news that she had brought with her.

"My dears – Amy Evanston is dead!"

This news had more of an impact on Lizzy, who turned quite pale, than it did on Kitty and Mary, who had never met Miss Evanston, but the sinister tones of Lady Hester's voice shocked them nonetheless and they gasped.

"I am so sorry to hear it," said Lizzy with real dismay. "Lady Hester – what happened to her? It is all so sudden! Was she murdered?"

"It was nothing so scandalous as that," said Lady Hester, in a somewhat disappointed tone. "Miss Evanston – I suppose we should call her Mrs. Hare, as that was her married name. Oh! What a shame that the good name of Evanston should be replaced by that of an artist; it is most shameful. Mrs. Hare and her husband the painter were returning to Ireland – he _was_ Irish, you know, though not of a noble family at all. And what do you think should have happened but their boat was capsized not a third of the way 'cross and everyone on board was drowned!"

Again Lady Hester's tones were dreadful and the ladies all gasped again.

"How terrible!" cried Elizabeth, who had been slightly acquainted with Mrs. Hare before her marriage. "It is so sad that her marriage should have ended in such a tragic way before she had even time to delight in it. I shall write a note of condolence to Lady Evanston directly; and I shall tell her how sorry I am to hear of Amy's death."

"Oh! But you shall do no such thing; Lady Susan has declared that her daughter died the moment when she ran away from her home and her engagement; and so she will not mourn at all for 'Mrs. Hare' and will not read your note of condolence!"

"Nonetheless I shall send one," said Lizzy with spirit, and after kissing her little girl on her little face went to her writing desk and would not be moved from her purpose.

"Was not Miss Evanston the girl who was engaged to your Mr. Wyeth?" asked Kitty curiously. She had not forgotten the interesting face of the young man she had met at Lady Hester's assemblée and his quick way of speaking and how abruptly he had bowed.

"Bless you – what a memory you have! Yes – Amy Evanston was to be Wyeth's bride, but at the very last minute she would not have him, she would rather this Mr. Hare of Ireland, and turned Wyeth into a jilt. Poor girl! I can only say now that if she had married him she would not be at the bottom of the channel right now in a watery grave; I suppose there is a lesson in this."

Just exactly what that lesson was she did not say; perhaps she could not. Elizabeth finished her note and rang for a maid to post it. After that they tried to talk of happier things but the topic always came round to Miss Evanston again; the happy mood was quite spoiled and it was no use trying to bring it back. Lady Hester took her leave of them with the promise to be back on the morrow and the consolation that at least she had made a sensation, which was a thing she dearly loved to do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thanks for all of the lovely reviews! This chapter is dedicated to jenna, who motivated me to get back to writing.

I'm in my first year of law school so time is a rarity, and I may go a while between updates. Just wanted you to know I haven't lost interest or given up on it!

Someone asked how many children Lizzy and Darcy have: it's 2, girls, Anne and Georgina, who are maybe twins, I haven't decided yet.

Elouise82: Oops! I don't intend for Lizzy to act frivolously; in the book she is a character who is fun-loving and I wanted to show that. I hope this chapter redeems her.

June W: I've plans for Mr. Wyeth for one of the sisters – but I won't say who yet. I haven't decided yet if Fitzwilliam will make an appearance.


	6. Chapter 6

It rained the next day and Lady Hester sent a note instead of coming over herself. The rain continued until about noon and then stopped suddenly and though it was very cold it was not muddy and Kitty thought she might venture out. But if she would do so, it would have to be alone, for Mary was painting her third skreen and Elizabeth was loath to leave her children.

"Georgina has a tooth coming through and is so fretful," she explained. "I had much better stay in with her. We are all out of sorts today – Cook has cut her finger and my maid Betsy is in bed with the head-ache. So she will not be able to accompany you if you go out."

Kitty had dearly hoped to buy some new ribbons to trim her hat and said that the little kitchen maid might go with her, if Lizzy could spare her for an hour or two.

Lizzy could indeed, and Kitty set off with the maid, who was a flighty young thing, and the two of them had the silliest of conversations as they walked through the maze of winding streets to the row of shops; so silly indeed that Mr. Bennet and even Eliza would have been disgusted by it, but Kitty and her maid enjoyed it very much and giggled all the way.

At the door of the ribbon-shop she let the maid run off to meet her friends, with promises to be back within the quarter-hour. It was not difficult to spend much more than that chusing ribbons – Kitty happily whiled away half an hour at that task without noticing. When she paid for the ribbons and went back out to the street the flighty little maid was not there and Kitty found herself standing on a busy side-walk, amidst a crush of people, without the slightest idea of where she was and which way she should go.

She had a moment of panic, for her mamma had filled her head with stories of young ladies getting lost in bad parts of town and never being heard from again. For half a second Kitty was sure that would be her fate; then she turned to get her bearings and saw a familiar face that made her spirits perk up, and hope that she would make it back to Darcy House in one piece sprang alive in her chest.

Mr. Wyeth was talking to a man in a dark coat by the hitching-post, not ten feet away from where Kitty stood; he seemed to feel her eyes on him and looked up. He knew her predicament at once and excused himself from his friend, and coming over to her and making his bows he said, "You look like you are lost, Miss Catherine; I am surprised that Mrs. Darcy let you come so far away alone and without a carriage."

"Oh! You mustn't think anything of Lizzy for it," said Kitty, weak in the knees with relief. "I would rather have walked than take the carriage which I find so stuffy. I told my little maid that she may run off while I bought my ribbons; only she has forgotten to come back. I have my ribbons but no maid."

"The ribbons must be a great consolation at least," said Mr. Wyeth, with a quirk of humor suddenly evident at the corners of his mouth, and he made plans to walk with Kitty back to Regent Street when it became apparent after five minutes' waiting that the little maid would not make an appearance.

Mr. Wyeth walked very quickly and Kitty had to stretch her legs to match his pace; he made no conversation and Kitty felt obliged to chatter to fill the silence.

"I am sorry to hear about your friend Miss Evanston," she said finally, after having exhausted topics on the weather and a ball that was up-coming; once the words had left her mouth Kitty thought that she ought not to have said anything on the subject and coloured with mortification, but Mr. Wyeth was quite pleasant.

"I was sorry to hear about it, too – but I am glad that she is gone because even in London people do no speak ill of the dead; the furor will soon wear off and they will not speak of Miss Evanston's name any longer with the breath of scandal attached to it, but rather remember her for her good works and sweet temper and her soul may rest in peace. I sometimes think it is better for a woman to be dead than to live with the tragedy of scandal for-ever hanging over her."

The rest of the walk was in silence, for Kitty could think of nothing else to say that was not silly even by her standards, and Mr. Wyeth did not seem to be in the mood for talking.

When they reached Darcy House they met Lady Hester, who had decided to venture out, at the door and she received them with exclamations of delight and wonder; and then she offered Mr. Wyeth her condolences on the death of his friend, much in the same way Kitty had. But unlike Kitty, Lady Hester received a cold politeness from him instead of candour. For though Kitty's remarks had been made in sincerity there was a gossip's gleam in Lady Hester's eyes as she made hers, and Mr. Wyeth's keen wit recognized it. He said only that he, too, was sad to hear of Mrs. Hare's passing and suggested that she save her condolences for the bereaved parents. Then he asked if he may speak to Mrs. Darcy.

Kitty took off her wrap and went to the nursery to look in on the children, when she came back down Mr. Wyeth had departed and Lizzy was in the parlor with Lady Hester.

"What a scolding Mr. Wyeth has given me on your account, Kitty," said Elizabeth crossly, and then laughed to show she did not mean it. "He was quite upset, I think, to find you on the streets of London all alone. I shall relieve my feelings on Maggie when she finally finds her way back. It was careless of her to leave you; but she is new in town and likely more lost than you were. Mr. Wyeth asks me to tell you that he will escort you to supper at the Lyndon's ball next week so that you do not lose your way there as well. Now, come and show me your ribbons."

Lizzy exclaimed over the pretty ribbons that Kitty had bought but Lady Hester was in ecstacy over the developments that had occurred; in her mind a gentlemen escorting a lady to supper was one small step from engagement. She remarked that Kitty was really very like Miss Evanston in colouring and build and that was likely what had piqued Wyeth's interest and then while Lizzy and Kitty trimmed their hats Lady Hester sat by the fire and told over to them every thing she knew about Wyeth's family; which she was sure that Kitty would be a part of by Michaelmas next. She knew a great deal about them, as she did of many people, her knowledge stretched back several generations and the telling of it took up the better part of the afternoon.


	7. Chapter 7

Kitty enjoyed the Lyndon's ball. She found that a ball was a very different thing with an escort; Wyeth met her when she came in and squired her round for the better part of the evening. He endeavoured to introduce her to a great many people and Kitty found that by his side, those who had looked through her before now found her an object of interest. She was so pleased by the attention and the kind solicitations that her eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew flushed; she was really looking prettier that night than she ever had before.

Wyeth was most attentive to her, and Kitty considered the whole evening a triumph even before it was over. It was only when Wyeth left her to go out with the rest of the gentlemen after supper that Lady Hester was able to beckon from her corner with an urgent air. Kitty raised her skirts and went; Lady Hester pulled her aside to whisper in her ear.

"My dear," she said, "I do not mean to bruise your spirits but I have been listening to you and Wyeth for some time to-night; and though you have a very pretty, simple way of turning a phrase, you must become more animated. Your topics of conversation so far have centered on your family's situation at Longbourn and your perceptions of town. Mr. Wyeth cannot be interested in either subject and I fear he is growing bored with you."

"I think he is quite interested!" cried Kitty, whose spirits were bruised by this blunt information. "He nods and smiles, and he has asked me four questions – and they were very insightful ones, at that."

"Yes – but did you not notice how his eyes roamed the room while you spoke? You must take it from me, as I am your elder, my dear. He will not be interested in you unless you make yourself seem more sophisticated. It is a pity you are not more like Miss Evanston!"

"I am beginning to dislike Miss Evanston," said Kitty sulkily.

"You may dislike her all you want but the fact remains that Mr. Wyeth had a great deal of affection for his deceased _fiancée_. I heard him say once that he could not feel any admiration at all for a girl who was not like her in every regard."

Lady Hester looked so serious and nodded her head so emphatically that Kitty paled. It had gradually over the weeks since she had made his acquaintance been revealed to her that she preferred Mr. Wyeth's countenance and his genteel manner to any other man she had ever known. She began to entertain thoughts of gaining and holding his affections; from there her imagination overtook her and she pictured herself as the mistress of his estate at Pulborough; she had even gone so far as to write a long letter to her brother Bingley and ask about that county's situation, as he had obtained property there.

Kitty felt sure now that Wyeth could never love her – that she was as unlike Miss Evanston as night from day. And if Wyeth had been willing to marry her – while Kitty was so unlike her in character – !

"What was Miss Evanston like?" asked Kitty desperately. "Lady Hester, you must tell me – so that I can endeavour to make my character more closely match hers."

"Before she ran away she was a very cultured and sophisticated girl," said Lady Hester with authority. "She was always in silks and satins and talked of nothing but plays and fashions and books and music. She was never happy except in town and declared to every one that she would not dream of venturing any where else. Every one was always talking of her because she was so much sought after – she made scandal like other girls make screens. Some Duke or another offered her all sorts of jewels if she would marry him and she turned him down. _And _there was a student that was in love with her, but she laughed at him and he suicided. By _hanging_, my dear!"

"How horrible!" cried Kitty.

Lady Hester nodded wisely. "But she was engaged to Wyeth, you know, and it was a love match, and so you must change yourself if you have any hope of catching him. I do not think any girl who is simple and provincial will have any chance with Wyeth unless she should remake herself in Miss Evanston's mould."

"What should I do?" asked Kitty, but by this time the gentlemen had reappeared, and Wyeth himself was by Kitty's side to escort her back to dancing. They had two very silent dances, during which Kitty was too flustered to say anything, for fear of it being the wrong thing. In a panic she decided to sit the next two out, and so Wyeth found her a seat near to some girls her own age, who were gossiping amongst themselves.

All the night so far, Kitty had paid very little attention to Mary, who had a dour expression on her face and was dancing with a gentleman who was badly pockmarked and twice her age.

"La!" said one of Kitty's neighbors, "There is Sir Wellington dancing with Mary Bennet. Likely his mamma put him up to it – she is a sullen girl, and bookish. I do not see how Lord Brereton could have been in love with her at all. It is so fanciful! There is no wonder she was disappointed by him. I would like to know that story."

"There is her sister," said another girl. "Let us ask her."

Four pairs of gleaming eyes turned on Kitty, at the very moment Mr. Wyeth returned at her side with refreshments. Kitty saw her chance to make a sensation and in her desperation to do so she overlooked any untruths that she might cause to be formed. She only knew that she must capture Wyeth's attention – she must make him think that she was worldly and full of spirit as his Miss Evanston had been before she married the artist.

"It was not Mary's fault," she said, colour flaring into her cheeks, "My sister is lovely when in good humour – it is only that she suffered a tragedy not too long ago. A – a certain man in our neighbourhood asked for her hand and when she refused him, he threw himself into the pond and was drowned."

"My goodness!" said one of the girls. "That would certainly explain her poor humour. What a tragedy! Who was the man?"

"I shan't tell you," said Kitty mysteriously, "Only my sister felt terrible over it. She – put off her engagement to Lord Brereton until the shock of it died down, and then he left and she was simply sick with grief over the whole thing."

Once the words left Kitty's mouth she found that she half-believed them; indeed, it was not so difficult to think that such a thing _might_ have actually happened. And the girls were looking at her with such awe that she felt buoyed up, and told them several other little fibs about her and sister's goings-on before they had come to town.

"Scandalous!" whispered one girl thrillingly. "And I thought that life in the country was so dull!"

"It is not dull," protested Kitty. "Why, my family is very lively; we are always making some good time or another and the people talk of us up to three villages away. There is always some scandal to be made and we are known for it, for we are terribly sophisticated. That is in fact why we have come to town – my mamma feared for our standing in case we were to stay."

"Will you tell us any more?"

"No, for I dearly long for a dance," said Kitty, holding her hand out to Wyeth. "It is one of the things I love best in the world – besides music, and plays, and fashionable clothes. I declare that I shall never leave town because it is so hard to find good dancing in the country. I should rather stay here and have adventures and see and do interesting things, and wear silks and satins. _Adieu_."

With that, Kitty swept away from the group and danced two more with Wyeth. She was giddy from her triumph and inspired to talk of nothing but town, and the theatre, and new dresses. She talked for so long on these subjects, without stopping, all the way until Wyeth declared that his feet hurt, and led her to the side, where he made his little bow and went away. Kitty did not see him again that night but did not mind. She felt only triumph. Wyeth had looked at her curiously and she suspected he had been thinking of how much her character resembled Miss Evanston's.


	8. Chapter 8

The next four days there was rain and the residents of Darcy House kept themselves in-doors; on the fifth the sun returned in the morning, and with it, Lady Hester. She brought with her not only the trifles of gossip that had accumulated on her tongue during her absence from her friends, but good news of her own, which she was eager to impart.

"The best news!" she cried, "For my nephew Warren has come to town; he arrived last night at a late hour and was situated in his room when I woke. It is most surprising; I have not laid eyes on him these two years – which grieved me greatly, as he is my favorite among my sisters' children. Yet here he is, when I least expected him! Oh! Such a jolly lad! What fun we all have! We will now have a fourth for cards, since Miss Bennet will not play. Although I will warn you not to try and take my George at _vingt-un_; he is a most accomplished player and wins every time."

"What delightful news!" Kitty said, and indeed she found it so. She was tired of listening to Mary read, and watching her paint her skreens so tirelessly; Anne had an ear-ache that Lizzy must tend to and Georgina was cutting her teeth. It had been a dull few days with no word from any soul, Wyeth among them, and Kitty was eager for droll times to return.

"Delightful is just the word to describe it," said Lady Hester. "I never knew a word more apt to describe Warren, he is so charming. I daresay he will be quite taken with both of you, though you must not set your cap at him, girls, for his mamma wants him to marry Sir Worthington's daughter, although he has shown no interest in her at all, the little brown thing. How he tormented her when they were children!"

"And what does he do now?"

"Oh – he does this and that, he is a perfect gentleman, George is. Of course he is the eldest son and so he must be a gentleman; he has been at Oxford and Cambridge and all those places, and he is always surrounded by friends, it is a surprise that he has been able to pull himself away from them to visit with us."

"I hope we shall have the pleasure of meeting him soon," said Mary decorously from among her skeins and silks.

The pleasure was had sooner than they all could have expected, for when they ventured out to a supper-party at Sir Worthington's that night they found George Warren at his aunt's arm, looking at her most attentively, and paying no attention at all to Miss Worthington, who looked browner than ever. He seemed delighted to make the Miss Bennets' acquaintance, however, and kissed their hands, and greeted them in a most effusive way. Elizabeth was at home and tending to her little daughter in the nursery, but Warren took the girls under his wing and determined that he should show these country lasses a most charming evening.

"It is capital to meet you!" exclaimed he, "For my dear aunt Symington has told me so much of your characters, and how much she enjoys her own friendship with 'those charming Miss Bennets!' She speaks nothing of you and your many beauties, and I know we shall all be very good friends as well as the best of neighbors!"

Then he bent over their hands again, so full of exuberant and sincere gladness at meeting them that Miss Worthington narrowed her yellow eyes and frowned.

Mr. Warren then took one Miss Bennet about the arm and squired both girls around the room, telling them things they already knew in a condescending tone and introducing them to people that they had met weeks before. But he paid them pretty compliments and was so charming and attentive that Kitty and Mary did not mind his condescension. Within the hour they were good friends, and felt so comfortable with him that even Mary allowed him to tease her a little.

During one turn of the room they passed by Mr. Wyeth, whom Kitty had not seen come in, and Warren's eyes flashed with amusement. "See how poor Wyeth sits apart from everyone, and will not join in our fun," he said. "My aunt tells me that you have set your cap at him, miss – " This addressed to Kitty, who coloured – "But it is my opinion that a girl of such spirit as had better drown herself in the channel than become tied down to a stick such as that."

"Oh, do be quiet!" cried Kitty; for Warren had spoken in a loud voice and everyone had heard him. Wyeth stood icily and bowed in Warren's direction, and disappeared onto the verandah. Kitty coloured deeper and would have been reduced to angry tears if Mary had not pinched her arm. She drew herself away from Warren and was cold to him for a moment; her new friend then realized his mistake and looked rather shamefaced.

"I should not have said that comment about drowning; I had quite forgotten about Miss Evanston, as was. It was d—d unfortunate that Wyeth overheard. Miss Catherine, I do apologize for teasing you."

He made a graceful bow and looked so chagrined that even Mary forgave him, though Kitty could not help looking out for Wyeth, who had vanished from their circle.

There was music after supper and to show his apology was sincere, Warren made a point to claim Kitty's hand for ever dance, while Miss Worthington looked on in a black humour. Kitty wished ardently that he might leave her free to dance with Wyeth, who had re-appeared, and whose eyes followed her watchfully 'round the floor. When she noticed his eyes upon her she contrived to show herself in the best of spirits, and laughed a great deal at all of Warren's little jokes. But it was no use. Wyeth watched her a little longer, and then went away; Kitty did not see him again at all that night.


	9. Chapter 9

Though Darcy was away he did not neglect his wife in all respects; she heard from him nearly every day, and the time Eliza did not spend in the sickroom with her little girl she spent at her writing desk, penning lengthy letters in response to his enquiring ones. Nor did Darcy forget about his sisters come to town; though he did not want to be in residence with them, exposed to their chattering, he made them a pretty gift of silver lockets, engraved with their initials, and sent with them his fond regards. Kitty preferred the locket to Darcy, whose sternness frightened her, and pinned it to her breast, where she showed it proudly to Lady Hester and her nephew when they came to call as usual at Darcy House after break-fast time.

But soon the presents' novelty wore off, and Kitty found herself in low spirits again. Wyeth had not been at the _assemblee_ the night before, nor at Mrs. White's whist party two days ago, or at Lady Hester's supper the day before that. She began to think she would not hear from him again, ever in her life, and this thought distressed her so much that she had the head-ache. Mary seemed as content as ever with her books and silks, but Kitty's hopes were all depressed and she felt low. Elizabeth, passing through, saw her pacing the drawing room floor anxiously, and she said, kindly,

"I had it from Sir Worthington that Mr. Wyeth is gone to his estate; and he expects to be there for some days."

This did not add any vivacity to Kitty's humour or bring back her hopes – indeed, this news had the opposite effect. She thought that nothing, not even the direst news, could remove her from town, where there was the chance of seeing Wyeth every where; and Kitty reasoned that if he felt the same he would not remove himself from such close proximity to herself. She paced with abandon, until Mary began to sing at the pianoforte, at which time Kitty let herself be escorted out by Mr. Warren, who wished to go out and see the sights, as he had not been come to town for some time and wished to reacquaint himself with it.

Kitty retained her previous disappointed air, and though Warren tried valiantly to compliment her back into good humour, she found that it did not restore her good spirits. If only Wyeth had not gone! If only he would come back! She was listless until Warren complimented her new locket, which Kitty had pinned to her cloak.

"It is from my brother Darcy," she cried, "See how good he is to send us presents, even when he cannot be with us!" And she proceeded to take it off to show it to him.

The name of Darcy is potent to some more than others, and for many different reasons – some wish that family well, and others would like to see some harm befall it. At the moment of Kitty's exclamation a carriage happened to be passing, and a tall, feathered woman riding out in it heard the name and perked up her ears. She was connected with the family in only the most tenuous way, but any news of Darcy she took greedily in her bosom. She bid her driver stop by the wayside so that she could more closely inspect the person who had spoken, and then turned to her companion, who had longer been in town, and asked,

"Who is the girl with Mr. Warren, there – I heard her say Darcy, I think; is she in any way connected to the family?"

Her companion was none other than Miss Worthington, who would have liked to be out and escorted by Mr. Warren herself; unhappy that she was not, she turned her tongue against his friend with the most vehemence she could muster.

"That is Miss Catherine Bennet," she said – at this a certain malicious gleam came over her friend's countenance – "Are you acquainted with her?"

"Bennet! I do not think I have had the pleasure of knowing _her_," said the feathered woman, whose married name was Fondulac. She had wedded a baron of French lineage, an old man, short and bald, but a baron nonetheless, and a union with that baron had elevated the speaker to the rank of baroness, so she injected into her words all the sarcasm allowed her by her rank. However, Lady Fondulac had not aspired to be a baroness always, but once the simple wife of a gentleman whose fortune had become closely intertwined with that of a certain Bennet family.

"I do not suppose," Lady Fondulac went on, "That Miss Catherine Bennet is of any relation to the Darcys?"

"Oh, but she is!" cried Miss Worthington peevishly, "She is Eliza Darcy's sister – she has come to town to find a husband, I suppose – " and the women laughed most uncharitably, given that Miss Worthington was in London for that very purpose, herself.

"And has she found one in Warren?" asked Lady Fondulac archly. "Poor girl! I have no especial fondness for the Darcys, or the Bennets, or any of their kin – except my dear brother and poor Jane, of course – but I should not wish a man like Warren on any woman. _You_ know, my dear, what I mean."

"I am sure I do not," said Miss Worthington indignantly, not forgetting that she had hopes of Warren for herself. "He is handsome, and good, and he has sixty thousand a year. Catherine Bennet has thrown herself most shamelessly at Mr. Wyeth and everyone knows she wants to put her claws into him, but he will not have her, and _Mary_ Bennet – "

"Lord! Is there a plague of Bennets on London this year?"

"Mary Bennet tried to catch Lord Brereton for herself; everyone knows it by now, such a pale, insignificant thing as she is! Can you imagine it?"

"I can imagine anything of those Bennets," said Lady Fondulac, "But I do not believe a family such as theirs would have anything to do with the Breretons. If you could see their mother, my dear, their _house_ …"

"My goodness!" exclaimed Miss Worthington in horror, "Are you so as aquainted with them as that, Caro? How can that be?"

"No, no," said Lady Fondulac quickly; she changed the subject, though her keen eyes stayed on Catherine Bennet until the carriage rounded the corner. She was not eager to remind anyone that there had ever been a day when she was not a baroness, for she had no desire to go back to the rank and status she had had before she was married; back when she had been Miss Caroline Bingley and nothing more.


	10. Chapter 10

Several days more passed by, days in which Kitty longed for some word from Wyeth, and had none; he had never written a note to her before but her foolish young heart, which fancied itself in love for the first time, saw this as no impediment, and could not give up hope that one would come. Alas! None did, the only missals they had were from Lady Hester or Warren. Letters arrived each day from Darcy, which Eliza read and answered with great pleasure and affection, and once there was a beautifully written note, all calligraphy and elegant stile, was signed with the name of Lady Caroline Fondulac.

"Lady Caroline Fondulac!" cried Lizzy, equal parts anger and revulsion; there was no love lost between the wife of Darcy and the wife of that respected baron. "How she has dared to write to _me_ I do not know – if I had been in her place I should not have supposed myself welcome to – but then as poor old Caro would remind me, _her_ manners are ever so more refined than _mine_. If Darcy were here, what a cutting response he would pen back to her; I have not his talent for forming sharp words and so I shall simply leave this missal unanswered."

"Why, Lizzy, you must answer it!" said Mary in horror – to do otherwise would be nothing but an unrecognizable slight and never forgiven in the long memory of the _ton_.

"Oh! Mary, I need do nothing of the sort; have you forgotten that Lady Caroline Fondulac was once Miss Bingley; or how abominably she has treated our family?"

"Is it not the greater gesture to forgive?" asked Mary, parroting a line she had read in one of her books. Eliza, who had lost none of her spirit, but some of her hot-temperedness, since becoming Darcy's wife and mother to his girls, gave a great sigh.

"For once you are right, Mary; I should not hold a grudge for so long. I will write back to Miss Bingley – Lady Fondulac, I mean – and ask her to call, but I shall not throw a fete in her honour, as she suggests I should, writing that she 'so longs to see Darcy House dressed up for a ball!' The complete nerve of the woman – I shall answer her later, after we have dined, when I am tired and not myself. But not let us read over this letter from Mamma, it will be good for a laugh, and will life Kitty's spirits. Poor Kitty! You have done nothing but sit by that window all day, and it will not bring Wyeth back any sooner, you know."

Kitty turned from the window with a sick, watery smile, and said with false cheer that she did so long to hear the news from home; she listened with contrived interest as Elizabeth read their mother's writing, but she did not hear a word that was said; instead she kept her attention fixed in a sidelong manner on the road outside the house, so that she may see all that came and went. Lizzy injected into their mother's words all the humour she could muster, even going so far as to give a good-natured impression of her voice and figure as she talked, but Kitty could manage only a weak smile, though it sent Mary into peals of mirth.

"Lord! You are coming 'round, Mary, if you can laugh like that; I began to despair of you ever finding any thing amusing. I am glad – if only Kitty can return to good spirits what a happy party of ladies we should be all the time. And Jane is just as sweet as can be; I had a word from her yesterday, if only Lydia could be as happy as we are such a circle of glad sisters the world would find us!"

"Why, what is wrong with Lydia?" asked Kitty, being drawn back into the conversation.

"Were you not listening to mamma's letter?" Lizzy questioned. "She writes that Lydia seems unhappy; she must be very unhappy indeed if mamma could notice any depression in her spirits. She has written that Wickham may be sent with his regiment to India, and Lydia has no great desire to go to that place; that they lack for money and the children often go without. Those poor little souls!" said Elizabeth, with great pity, thinking of her own daughters, "If I could be sure that it would go to them rather than to pay for Wickham's gambling, I should send them a great sum straight away, but as it is, knowing his character as I do, I dare not. It will only serve to set him greater in debt, and that they do not need."

"Lydia made her bed, and is finding it uncomfortable to lie in," Kitty said rather peevishly.

Elizabeth turned her soft dark eyes on Kitty reproachfully. "Yes; what you say is true, Kitty, but not sympathetic as it should be, for Lydia did not know at the time she made her bed what sleep would gather there."

At her sister's chiding, Kitty felt ashamed, and she could not help the hot tears that spilled down over her cheeks. She began to sob, and both Elizabeth and Mary were dismayed and perplexed at this sudden outpouring of emotion. They patted her feebly and murmured stricken endearments until there was a knock on the door; at which point Kitty jumped up and ran to open it, pushing even the butler out of the way in her haste.

"See a letter has come – could it be? But it is not – it is only for you, Lizzy." Kitty dried her tears and settled herself back on the settee by the window with the same hopeful expression, only lacking a little of the hopefulness that had been in it before.

Eliza took her letter to her desk to read, and Mary went back to her skreens, all the while Kitty looked resolutely out of the window. If it had been a letter of ordinary status they might have passed the whole of the evening in such a way, but as it was not such a letter, Elizabeth soon gave a great cry of amazement and stood up from her desk.

"Lord! It cannot be true – !"

"What has happened?" asked Mary in alarm. "Who is it from, Lizzy, and what is wrong?"

"It is from Darcy – he is well, Mary, do not swoon! I should not have reacted so. It is only that it is so amazing; he writes to me a very thorough account of Mr. Warren's behavior and leads me to believe that he is not the man we thought he was, at all!"

"Why, what does he say of him?" asked Kitty, interested at once.

Lizzy read,

"'My dear – hope you are well – and the children' – oh! Here it is. 'It has come to my attention that our neighbour Lady Symington has had a visitor, and that he is one George Warren, and that your sisters have become great friends with him; I have had this in a letter from my friend Mr. Wyeth – "

"Wyeth! Writing to Darcy!" Kitty cried, amazement now, herself.

"'Mr. Wyeth,'" contined Eliza, "Who is acquainted with that gentleman's character as I am, and knows it to be as disreputable a character as a man can have.'"

"Why, what has he done?" Mary wondered.

"'I shall spare you the details which are most unsavory,'" Lizzy read, looking pale. "'And I shall tell you only that Mr. Warren is afflicted with the same downfalls as your brother Wickham' – a gambler, he means! – 'and is indebted to the tune of a hundred thousand pounds to every card-house in town; he has also the unhappy habit of frequenting lodgings where ladies _of no good morals_ dwell. More unfortunately for his family, he has been suspected of thievery and has _fathered several bastards_!' O, my God! 'Which his family, given his insolvency, is forced to support – My dear Lizzy, I know you have not acted already because of your tendency to avoid gossip, and it is likely even Lady Hester does not know of his past doings; however, it is widely known about town that he is disreputable, and I urge you to keep your sisters from his clutches, as any association with that man can be nothing but damaging to a young lady's reputation. Proceed with care, my dear, and I remain your loving husband, et cetera.'"

"Good Lord!" Mary was horrified into exclaiming. "He is surely a serpent we have taken to our bosom."

"We shall not press him there any longer," said Lizzy grimly. "I am afraid we must decline any invitations with him, and Lady Hester, as long as Warren is to be under his roof."

"He is to take me in to supper tomorrow night at the Worth's ball," said Kitty piteously from her window-seat.

"I shall deal with that," Lizzy said, "But he shall not escort you any where, Kitty, and that you may be sure of." She sat down at her desk again, and wrote a long letter, only rising again when she was her finished, and her candle had burnt low.


	11. Chapter 11

This remarkable news was the advent to a rather unremarkable night. In nearly every respect, this night was like any other; Mary painted on her umpteenth skreen before retiring early and Lizzy, after sealing her letter and directing it to the two-penny post, went to the nursery and attended her children. Only Kitty could not pass over what had happened with anything resembling calm reflection. She paced the floor of her bedchamber until it grew so late that she feared she might disturb the other inhabitants from their slumber. At that time, she lay herself down, but she tossed and turned and sighed, for sleep would not come.

She could not believe the news she had heard about Mr. Warren! – Could it be that she may have been so deceived as to his character? It was true that she had never found him to be the best company; there was something so lacking in his character that she could never call him a true friend. But he was on the verge of being an acquaintance—and now this! To find that he was a liar, a thief, a frequenter of disreputable abodes!

And he was engaged to take her in to supper tomorrow at the Worth's ball! How horrid to be so formally associated with a blackguard, a scoundrel! His reputation was so thoroughly tarnished in her eyes as to make her quite fearful for her own, in thinking that some of his had word off on hers.

He was thoroughly beyond the Pale! And how many other people knew of it—and equated her conduct to his? Tomorrow, all eyes would be upon them and how people would be whispering! She writhed, thinking of it.

Kitty, who had longed for scandal, and desired all eyes upon her, found that she would have vastly preferred to do without it, and to let on-lookers look elsewhere for their excitement.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day came, as days are wont to do; the hours wound down until it was time to dress for the ball. Kitty's heart was heavy; she could not take any pleasure at all in her gown or her hair-stile, which Lizzy assured her was quite the height of fashion. Kitty had no thought of being fashionable, and looked so pale and wan that Elizabeth studied her with a critical air.

"You look rather peaked, Kitty and very dull, though your green dress suits you. What a pity you have not any jewelry; the next is very low, and a neck-lace would set it off. You have desperate need of an ornament; perhaps I shall lend you my pearls."

But Mary, ever ready to be useful, exclaimed,

"Oh! Sister, you need do nothing of the sort. Kitty may wear her locket, which her brother Darcy was so kind to send to her. You observe that I am wearing mine—I am sure it is mine, and not hers, for it has my initials on it: 'M.B.'"

"That is an excellent idea!" cried Elizabeth. "Kitty, I shall run and get you a pretty silver chain; how sweet it will look around your neck, and how glad Darcy would be to see you wear his gift."

The chain was gotten, but the locket could not be found. Kitty looked everywhere in vain for it; it would not turn up.

"How dreadful of you!" scolded Mary, "To have lost such a valuable token of Mr. Darcy's affection!"

"I am sure I did not lose it," said Kitty helplessly. "It is only misplaced."

Eliza did not scold; but her brow furrowed. "Can you not remember the last time you had it?"

"Yes—it was the other day, when I unpinned it from my cape, and shewed it to Mr. Warren."

At the mention of that man, all three ladies grew a little pale, and Kitty was almost beside herself. She sat and covered her face with her hands. Such a horrid man—they had all be so deceived by his tricks. The locket was quite forgotten; all that remained was the simple fact that in an hour or two's time she must meet him, knowing what he was.

Eliza, too, forgot the missing gem. "I shall get my pearls," she said, seeing that it was necessary to speak. "And my smelling salts as well. Never fear, Kitty! You will not meet Mr. Warren tonight—I have seen to that."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lady Hester's carriage had been appointed to take them to the fete, and it was Lady Hester's carriage which stopped in front of Darcy House at exactly half-past eight. Kitty trembled; in a moment the door would open and she would be face to face with Warren, and she felt that she should either scream or faint. At the very least, she was sure her disdain and revulsion for that person must shew on all her face—how surprised she was to find that Lady Hester only was inside.

"La! My dears," cried that good woman, as they climbed in, "How sad am I to-night! For my nephew Warren shall not attend us after all; he has been called away on another matter. Kitty, he shall not be able to escort you and I know he is very sorry for it. He said to me this morning, 'Aunt,' he said, 'There is not a girl more to my liking in all of London than Miss Catherine Bennet.' What do you think of that?"

Kitty was caught between civility and mortification – how terrible that such a disagreeable person should find anything agreeable in her! How base she must appear to others if she could have any esteem in his eyes!

It was now almost certain to her that Lady Hester could not be acquainted at all with her nephew's true character, and for her sake, Kitty was glad. She did not like Lady Hester overmuch but did consider her to be a good and genial soul. She did not deserve to be apportioned with any blame or worry.

"And I hope she may never find it out," thought Kitty, leaning back upon the seat.

"Now you will have no supper-escort," whispered Mary, with a little triumph, as her sister and their companion talked of Georgina's new tooth. "Mr. Vichy is to take me, and to dance with me in the first two. But you will be a wall-flower, Kitty! How you should dislike that!"

"I shall like it far better than you think," was all that Kitty would say, and indeed, she tripped up the stairs of Worth house with a light heart. The worst had been avoided; she felt herself, at that moment, very lucky.

And still luckier! For the first countenance her eyes beheld was that of one she had been longing to see – Mr Wyeth stood at the bottom of the stairs. In the tumult of the past twelve hours Kitty had quite forgotten about him; to see him again brought a rush of feeling to her heart which showed itself in her cheeks. He was as handsome as ever—and as he made his way toward her, she wondered if he would speak to her.

Speak he did – and much to Kitty's satisfaction, for he bowed, and said,

"It has come to my attention that you are in need of an escort; I shall be much obliged if you would do me the honour of accepting my escort to supper – and of accepting my hand in the first two."

Kitty bloomed into such perfect happiness that she thought she must fly to pieces with it; but it was destined to be brief. Kitty cried, all delight, "How did you know?" and Mr. Wyeth answered that her sister, Mrs. Darcy, had impressed the need upon him.

"Oh!" she cried, her happiness deflated like a ball-oon.

She had thought that he must seek her out on his own accord, and to be told that it was out of duty, instead of ardour – is there any more humiliating feeling in the world? Kitty took his arm, her spirits around her feet; but they were buoyed up again by the simple nearness of him. She would have his company at the table and for the first two of the dances and she was determined to be her prettiest self, and most charming, and to make him talk to her in the kindly way he used to, when they were first acquainted.

But through supper he was silent, and through the first dance; it was only when they were going down the line in the second that he said,

"I am sure you were very sorry that Mr. Warren could not be here to-night."

"Not at all!" cried Kitty, "It is the very least thing in my mind to feel any sorrow at all over that person's absence."

He gave her a long, keen look, and replied, "It is my experience that young ladies often say one thing but mean another when tender feelings are involved."

"No, no!" Kitty protested, but could not explain further because at that moment, they parted in the dance. When they came back together, she had composed herself and was determined to speak of other things.

"Who is that tall woman, over there, with the feather in her head-piece? I have felt her eyes on me all the night – look, she watches Mary, too. Who can she be? Is she a friend of my brother Darcy?"

"She is Lady Fondulac," Wyeth replied.

The name seemed familiar but she could not place it. How strange, she thought, she watches me like a hawk at a dove!

"Mary gets on well with Mr. Vichy," she said, to make a conversation out of the silence that had fallen. Mr. Wyeth met this plain pronouncement with another long look.

"Indeed—perhaps too well." He was cryptic, and for a moment Kitty could not fathom why he must be. Then she remembered the stories she had circulated, about Mary and Lord Brereton. She had nearly forgotten, but he had heard them; his look was disapproving.

The dance ended; Wyeth bowed and went away. Kitty knew, as she watched him go, that he would not come back again that night—perhaps ever again, and her heart ached over it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The number of ladies was greater than the number of men, and Kitty was forced to sit out several dances. She found herself in the company of several young ladies she had met before; she had told them stories, and they were eager to hear more of her goings-on.

"Mr. Warren is not here, I see," said one, to Kitty, archly. "How mean of him! To make you into a wall-flower. You could dance with Mr. Lyon, he is over there; but I suppose you shall not dance at all if not with Mr. Warren."

"Nonsense!" cried Kitty, indignantly. "I have danced with Mr. Wyeth a while ago; I should be willing to dance again. I do not sit out on Mr. Warren's behalf."

"_Indeed_," said the other of her companions, in a way that was full of meaning, and Kitty felt herself frustrated.

At that moment there was a lull in the crowd and the music, and from the front hall-way they heard the sounds of a late party arriving. A tall, fair man strode into the room, and Kitty felt, rather than saw, her companions begin to flutter.

"Oh! What a situation!"

"They shall surely have to meet now!"

"Who is it?" Kitty wondered. "And who shall meet?"

They looked at Kitty very strangely. "That is Lord Brereton."

Oh! If ever a falsehood has come back to cause more agony than that it has not been recorded. The musicians ceased playing and the crowd began to murmur until the sound rose in a dizzying hum. People were whispering and pointing and looking significantly – the only ones who were confused were Mary – and Lizzy – and the guest. One of Kitty's companion's jumped to her feet and put an arm about Mary.

"You shall not have to face him!" she cried. "Not after he has treated you so abominably! Let us get some air."

Lord Brereton looked astonished; Mary flushed and asked, "What can you mean?"

Kitty jumped to her feet, ready to confess all; she really would have shouted the truth had not there been another shout from the hall-way, and a general ripple of excitement went through them all. Mrs. Worthington gave a cry and put her hand to her heart; Lady Hester dropped in one of the few real faints she had ever experienced in her life.

"What is it? What can it be?" cried Kitty, and was surprised to find Wyeth at her side. He took her arm and pulled her a little way from the clamouring crowd, from the ladies who were fanning Lady Hester, trying to revive her, and the men who were exclaiming in loud voices that it couldn't be so, it couldn't be so!

"Has someone died?" she asked, quite concerned, and Wyeth looked at her strangely.

"Indeed—you have hit the nail on the head. I am afraid to tell you, but you must hear it: Mr. Warren has been shot and is, even at this very minute, deceased."


	12. Chapter 12

It was only a few minutes before the entire story had circulated; the deafest old lady among the guests had had the whole tale shouted to her. Those who were not hard of hearing had whispered it over to one another so that it spread. It was, within a quarter-hour, common knowledge that George Warren had been shot—a duel, my dear—drunk—and, this, most strangely, was that on his person had been found a small silver locket. A silver locket, obviously given as a token of affection—a silver locket bearing the initials of C.B.

At this most startling news, the excitement of Mary and Lord Brereton had been forgotten, but not by the good lord himself, for he looked most perplexed, and said to his companions that he had never seen such a person as Miss Bennett before in his life; never heard of her.

The two stories rose and twined together and more and more pairs of eyes became locked on the two sisters at the center of the crowd—Miss Mary and Miss Catherine Bennett.

Slowly, a knowing look was beginning to light in Elizabeth Darcy's eyes. She approached her sisters and took one by each arm.

"Home," she said coldly, and was none too gentle in their handling of them. "We must go home, at this very moment."

Kitty was too distraught to do anything but sob in the carriage, and for a good while after they had been settled in the parlour at Darcy House. Eliza had gone over to their neighbor, who had not only been stricken by the news of her nephew's death, but was also becoming aware as to his true character. It was a doubly-hard burden, and Eliza must soothe her as best she could. She must go – but she threw a black look over her shoulder at Kitty as she went. There was no doubt that Kitty knew all – that Kitty was ring-leader in something that Eliza did not, as yet, fully understand. Her guilt shewed in her countenance and Mary was so confused as to prove her guilelessness.

"Do not even think of going to sleep until I return," were Lizzy's parting words, and Kitty sobbed with greater force, for it had all come crashing down.

It was after mid-night when Elizabeth came back, and Kitty's face was swollen and tear-stained, but evoked no sympathy in her elder sister. She was charged with telling all, and began to tell it in fits and starts – but she was too beside herself to make her story comprehensible, and Lizzy was annoyed.

"Since you cannot tell me just what you have wrought," she said in exasperation, "I shall tell you what I believe you have done. And you shall nod to set me right. Kitty – have you told a fib?"

Kitty nodded, miserably.

Eliza's brow lowered – "How like Darcy she looks!" thought Kitty, and burst anew into fresh, fretful tears. But Elizabeth had not finished her inquiry and pressed on.

"And in your fib – did you insinuate that Mary had a connexion with Lord Brereton?"

Another nod.

"Kitty!" cried Mary, aghast. "When you know full well I have never laid eyes upon the fellow until tonight!"

"Let me finish, Mary," said Elizabeth, and held up her hand. "This connexion between them, Kitty – did you perhaps insinuate that Mary and Lord Brereton had – had – formed an attachment to one another?"

The slightest hesitation – and then Kitty nodded once more.

"Kitty!" Mary was more aghast than ever.

"You are a very silly girl," said Lizzy scathingly. "What ever could have possessed you?"

"I wanted – people – to like us," wept poor Kitty. "I did not want them to think we were dowdy, country girls."

Eliza was equal parts annoyance and anger.

"There is no shame in being a country girl," she said, "Not half so much shame as you find yourself with at this moment! You are the talk of the town; what a scandal you have made! Kitty, you must answer one more question, and then I will send you away to your room, and I do not want to see you again until morning. Did you, yourself, form an attachment to Mr. Warren?"

"No!" cried Kitty, and there was truth in her words. Lizzy relented.

"I did not think that you could have done such a thing. But then, Kitty, how did he get your locket?"

"He was known to be a thief," Mary conjectured. "Perhaps he stole it."

This possibility was talked over and the sisters arrived at the conclusion that it was likely what had happened. Kitty remembered taking off her brooch and handing it to him – she did not recall him handing it back.

"True or not, no one will suppose it," was Elizabeth's fretful conclusion. "London always believes the worst—and never the best. People will only remember that Warren was a man of ill-repute; and that you, Kitty, were connected to him. Oh! If only I had burned Mamma's letter and never taken you. I do not know how we shall find ourselves a way out of this mess."

"Perhaps," said Mary hopefully, "It will all be blown over in the morning."

It was not. The Bennett sisters arose to find that the story had spread, rather than abated, and had been embellished in several places by additional details. Added to the stir was the name of Lydia Wickham; and every one remembered that there had been some scandal about her only a few years ago.

"Caroline Bingley has a busy tongue," said Lizzy darkly. "Oh! If I could meet that woman in a duel of my own, she would find herself suffering the unlucky Warren's fate."

"What shall we do?" sobbed Kitty, who had been continually doing that through the night, and was utterly ghastly to behold.

Lizzy thought for a moment and wrung her hands. There were in the middle of gossip which did not seem likely to die down; all over town they were talked of, in most horrendous ways. There was no refuge from it; no place they could go to—save one. Oh, there was a place! And there they could find refuge. There, they would be away from it; it was to be their calm in the storm.

"We go to Pemberley," she said.


	13. Chapter 13

When she had been Miss Bingley, Lady Caroline Fondulac had more than once been warned by her brother that she should keep her sharp tongue to herself, especially when concerning the upstart origins of her sister-in-law's family. Charles had been mild enough in his rebuke of her, for it was his way; yet there was no doubt that he would brook no impoliteness or coldness in her manner to his wife. Miss Bingley had well heeded his reproaches, for, after all, it was easy enough to be gracious to one so kind and sweet as Jane, and as an unmarried woman of the age of five and twenty, it had begun to dawn on her that one day she should perhaps be forced to make her home with her brother, and it would never do to be at odds with one's own housemates.

But she had married the next year; indeed, married so high that she was now quite above the place in society that she had formerly occupied, and even above the place that she had sought to attain. She was the wife of a lord, and if he was an old, gouty fellow, he at least imparted to her by their union all the courtly airs and graces that were due to his own honor. As a result, Caroline Bingley spoke her mind often and without fear of rebuke, for whom would dare rebuke her, when she had friends at court?

But although Miss Bingley greatly enjoyed her new rank and stature as Lady Fondulac, she could not help thinking, when ever she looked at her gouty husband, that it would have suited her far better to be only 'Mrs. Darcy.' She had never got over her jealousy of Eliza Bennet for attaining _that_ title; and she subsequently hated any one who shared that woman's connexion. She had gone to the Worth's ball (a lowly gathering, for one in her position!) with the express intention of taking the Miss Bennets down a peg or two.

Yes—it had been her intent to take them down; how gratifying that she had not even needed to utter a word to bring about their ruin! No—she had merely sat back, and watched it all unfold. It was better than she had hoped; imagine her pleasure at finding Miss Catherine party to a sordid liaison with that scoundrel Warren! Lady Fondulac found it very hard to suppress her glee as she leant forward to her companions, and told them, in a hushed voice,

"My dears, it cannot be doubted. I will not go so far as to insinuate that the duel was fought over Miss Catherine Bennet, _but_…"

"Oh, that is not fair," protested one lady, "When everybody knows that Mr. Penbrook only mentioned to Mr. Warren that he had better pay his debts to him; and it was Mr. Warren who suggested the duel, and he was quite intoxicated at the time. It was heard by so many and there was never any mention of Miss Catherine Bennet, or any 'Bennet' at all!"

"Well, I did not suggest otherwise," said Lady Fondulac, "But it is certain Miss Catherine was mixed up with him in a sordid way. Did not Warren possess her own locket at the time of his demise—with her initials on it plain as day? How else could he have gotten it without her giving it to him—and for what reason would she give it other than romance? No—no, Louisa, you need not protest, for I will not hear you. Mr. Warren was a blackguard, I will not but admit, but I cannot reckon him a thief. His father was viscount, you know, and highly regarded."

"I was not going to say otherwise," cried Mrs. Hurst, who had no great liking for the Bennets herself. "Indeed, I do not doubt what you say for one minute, Caro. It is certain that Kitty Bennet was entangled in some way with Warren. Dear me! And she sister to our own dear brother's Jane!"

Lady Fondulac gave a poisonous glance to her sister; she did not like to remind others that her brother had made such a _mesalliance_, and that they were in any way closely connected with that family.

"I was only going to say," Mrs. Hurst continued, "That it is most surprising to _me_ that Lord Brereton should find anything to admire in Miss Mary Bennet. Her features are so flat and bookish; there is every bit the air of a country peasant about her personage."

"_I _do not think he could admire her—or _did_," said Lady Fondulac archly and waved her ostrich fan. "My lord has supped with the Breretons above twice; they are not the sort that would mix with a lower class. And, my dears, though it pains me, for sweet Jane's sake, I cannot hold the Bennets higher than they are. If you could see Longbourn—it is the sort of place where ducks and geese wander in the walkway. I vow they never dine before five o'clock!"

After this pronouncement, conversation lulled, and Lady Fondulac sipped her chocolate and let her eyes wander over the rest of the crowd. White's was usually the sort of place where people mixed to a great extent; today it was rather dull. Lady Fondulac began to feel it was useless to stay any longer; she and Louisa had better retire to the shops before the rain started—but then her eyes lit on a familiar figure in the crowd, and she gave a gasp of great pleasure. The figure she had been so closely watching saw only the outward sign of her emotion, without supposing its motive; she came over to the table, her ruddy face lit with smiles.

"La! It's Miss Bingley! How amusing, that I should come to town and see a face I know. I did not expect to see anyone at all.—And look, it is Mrs. Hurst! Oh, it is too amusing! I shall tell mamma that I saw you and she will think it so funny, I am sure."

The ladies at the table recoiled at being addressed with such a lack of formality by a stranger; Mrs. Hurst opened her mouth in indignation, for she had no knowledge of this person, and could tell at a glance that she did not wish to be associated with her, as her dress was very unfashionable.

Their visitor rolled her eyes in amusement.

"You do not remember me; I can tell you do not! How mean of you, when I am your own sister-in-law, Lydia Wickham—Lydia Bennet as was!"

"Wickham!" cried Mrs. Hurst, "I am sure I do not know the name."

"It is quite all right, Louisa," said Lady Fondulac, silencing her with a none-too-gentle pinch, for she had a nose for gossip and did not want Lydia to run away without discerning why it was she had come to town. And in such an apparent hurry; she had only a small valise, and her gown was worn with traveling.

"Oh! I can see that you remember me. What fun we had together in Meryton while you were all at Netherfield. How dull it must be, with Bingley and Jane gone north and with the —shire gone away!"

"Indeed," said Mrs. Hurst, with a sudden gleam of recognition in her eyes, "It must be a true loss to your family; for it is to my knowledge that you have married one of that regiment, madam."

"You have got it right," cried Lydia, "But it has brought me no happiness, I am sure. La! Marriage is such a bore; I wish I had never done it. I do not like keeping house, and you know that Wickham cannot afford any servants so it is all I ever do; washing and cleaning and looking after things. We have but one girl to get the meals and she puts far too much salt in the porridge. I gave her half a crown and told her to go away, for I was coming to town to have a good time. I am glad to be gone! Bath does not suit me. It only hurt me to leave my little boy; but he is in good hands, I left him with Mrs. Poke or Polk, who lives in the street above us. How surprised Wickham will be when he comes home and finds we are not there!"

"Do you mean," cried one of the ladies, "That you have not told your husband where you have gone?"

"La! What a funny joke it will be on him. And you," turning to Lady Fondulac and her sister, "Should not tell Wickham you have seen me, if you run across him. I am sure he will come looking for me, and be in a most foul humour."

"I do not think that our paths are much likely to cross with _that_ person's," said Mrs. Hurst, drawing herself up with much dignity.

"Well!" said Mrs. Wickham, "I must go and find my sister Lizzy. What fun! She does not know I am come, either. She shall faint when she sees me, I am sure. _Adieu_."

She had not left their presence for more than half a minute before Lady Fondulac and her sister had relayed, in thrilling tones, the story of the youngest Miss Bennet's elopement some years ago.

"How disgusting!" cried one of their companions, "I am surprised at Darcy; he must have found himself entrapped. For he is known to have impeccable taste, and I am sure I have never heard of a more scandalous family than these Bennets."

"It is so," Lady Fondulac cried, "It is so!" And she bent her head closer to her friends, while raising her voice so all could hear, as she greatly exaggerated the shocking antics of Miss Eliza Darcy's family. She made a great pretence of speaking in confidence, but all could mark her words, even Mr. Wyeth, who was standing clear across the room, and did not mean to overhear, could not but help hearing, and cementing his own opinion of that family, and the degree of their disgrace.


	14. Chapter 14

It was impossible for them to leave for Pemberley straight away; the trunks must be packed, and small Anne and Georgina readied for the journey. No—their departure from Darcy House would not happen that day, but Eliza was determined it should occur early on the morrow, "and that we shall not set foot outside this house until then; and even then, we shall go straight to the carriage, and shan't meet anybody."

She was determined she would not mix in society until she had gotten the advice of Darcy; he would know what she should do and say, or, if she should do or say anything at all. Lizzy was quite beside herself; she was, for once, at a complete loss as how to deal with the situation they now found themselves in. She did not like feeling at such a disadvantage, and she had no great fear that her own family's regard should suffer. Rather, she worried that she should have sullied her husband's pristine reputation.

"It is my fault for not keeping closer watch on you," she cried, at Kitty, who had ceased sobbing and only looked very pale. "Georgina was teething, and I was distracted; but it is no excuse. I should have told mamma that I could not have you, if I could not devote all my attention to you. Indeed, I wish you had never come to town!"

"Oh! Lizzy, that is too mean," protested Mary, who was really quite concerned as to her younger sister's wan and fearful countenance. "Kitty did not mean any harm."

"It does not matter if she meant it or not," said Eliza, "She has brought it about. There are so many who have called Darcy foolish for associating with a family such as _ours_; I was beginning to prove them wrong. And now Kitty has come and shewed them just how right they were to sneer at us. Oh! I am too angry; I shall go to my room and write again to Mr. Darcy. You two shall stay here and not move outside this room; I do not want you to go out, even for air, and if anyone calls on us, we shall not be at home."

She went out, and Mary went back to packing her books, for she could not think of anything else to do. Kitty lay on the chaise with a cool cloth on her burning eyes.

She had heeded her sister's words; she knew they must not receive any guests—still, she could not help but think that Wyeth might come. Even if she could not see him, if he would only come! What a comfort it would be, for she would know then that he, at least, did not think the worst of her. She could not forget the disapproving way that he had looked at her when he had told her of Mr. Warren's demise; and how she had never had a chance to explain the truth to him. After a while she rose and went to her writing desk, where she began to write to him and tell him all; she tried to hide this from Mary, and did so with success, but Elizabeth, coming into the room, discerned what she was at and took the paper from her hand.

"No, Kitty; you have done damage quite enough."

So Kitty went back to her chaise in a state of misery.

Every time the she heard steps in the foyer, she thought it must be Wyeth; she craved that it should be him. Each time the front door opened she rose and went to the window with an exclamation—surely he had come! But it was either the apothecary with teething powder, or the butler with the post. It was never Wyeth.

The door opened around noon and Kitty heard a visitor being admitted into the hall-way; she rose and went to the threshold, crying, "He has come! I knew he would come!" She was so certain that the door would open to reveal Wyeth's countenance that when it _did_ open, and revealed some one else entirely, she thought she must swoon with disappointment.

"La!" said Lydia, coming into the room, and tossing her bonnet on the chair, "Did I not tell Miss Bingley that you all should faint to see me. I was right, as I always am about such things—Mary, how dull you look sitting there. Why do you not come and welcome me, as Kitty has. _She_ is glad to see me, I know. And where is Lizzy?"

"I am here," cried Eliza, coming down the stairs, "But that does not explain why you are so, Lydia! It is very bad of you not to write; what are you doing here? Where is Mr. Wickham? Is he not here also?"

"Lord, no! Wickham is away with the —shire; he is never at home, so why should I have to be? I am come on my own, Lizzy, and the joke is on Wickham, for he does not know!"

"Do you mean," cried Elizabeth, in great consternation, "That you have run away from Mr. Wickham?"

It became most apparent that that was what had occurred; Elizabeth was so shocked that she sank down onto her chair and passed her hand over her eyes. Then she sprang up, and cried,

"It is too bad of you, Lydia! Did you not think of how it will look for us, if you should run away from your husband and your home? It will give mamma an attack, and papa shall be beside himself."

"La! I don't care. I am so tired of being shut away in the country, while Kitty and Mary get to come to town and have all the fun."

"Kitty and Mary shall not be in town past tomorrow," Elizabeth said, "For we are going to Pemberley."

"Then I shall come, too," said Lydia, determinedly. "For I am sure you have all sorts of parties and balls planned for them there, and I do so long to dance, like I did in the old days!"

Elizabeth began to speak to dissuade her, but Kitty was not listening, for she had heard again the door open, and the sound of steps in the front hall.

"It is him!" she cried, and this time she was certain, for she indeed recognized the footsteps of Mr. Wyeth. There was no mistaking the heavy tread, nor the sonorous bass of his voice through the door. She flew to it in an instant and opened it, thinking not of her sister's warning, but only that he was there, on the other side of the panel, and she should see him!

She was not wrong; it was Mr. Wyeth who had come to call. He expressed cordially if coldly that it was Miss Catherine he had come to see, and he begged for a moment alone with her. Lizzy threw up her hands, and ushered her sisters out. Kitty turned to Wyeth with a face alight with joy and hope; she began to frown when she saw that he was just as disapproving as he had been the previous night, if not more so.

"I am only come to give you this," he said, and pressed into her hand a shiny gold object; Kitty, turning it over, discerned it was her locket and gaped at him. "Do not ask me how I should come to get it; I had to use the most unsavoury methods. But it is yours again."

"Thank you," said Kitty, for she knew not what else to say.

"I am sure it will comfort you to know that it was in Mr. Warren's possession when he breathed his last," said Wyeth, and for an instant, there was a look of such black fury on his face that Kitty was quite taken aback; he immediately turned away and she began to protest, but he turned round again.

"Do not protest!" he said passionately. "Do not pretend to feel something you do not, or make light of the situation. On top of everything else, it is unpardonable! Be scandalous, but do not be false."

Again he turned away, and Kitty was stricken so close to tears that she could not speak for fear of giving it away. And so she missed her chance, for when Wyeth turned again, it was to bow, and to say,

"I offer you my condolences." And then he took his leave.

Kitty could not think of what to do; she cast the hateful locket into the fire and then was sorry she had done it; she tried to fish it out and burnt her hand. There was a terrible commotion as Eliza burst in at the sound of her wails, Lydia and Mary and the rest of the household following. Mary, in her haste, stepped on Lydia's train and ripped it, and Lydia was moved to give her sister a vicious pinch. Eliza bandaged Kitty's hand and pinched them both, hard, and cried,

"Oh! If mamma had only had five sons! Jane is the only one of you who is worth any thing; she is more than the three of you together. I see that we must leave at once; it is too dangerous to keep you here any longer. I shall tell Petrie to get our things, and we shall go; and if any of you makes one peep I shall pinch you again, and harder still!"

The carriage was loaded and Eliza Darcy set off for Pemberley with her two little girls, and her three very unhappy sisters, for Mary was nursing her pride, Lydia her gown, and Kitty her broken heart.

"I shall never see him again," she murmured, as the carriage rolled through the streets, and they left London behind.


	15. Chapter 15

Pemberley was a balm on Eliza Darcy's spirits, as it always was, and she was so restored to good humour by the sight of the home and the grounds that she so loved, and their present good condition and up-keep, that within an hour of arriving there she had smiled; an hour after that and her black mood had left her nearly completely, and she was able to admit to Kitty that perhaps she had behaved too sternly toward her whilst in town.

"I do not say that I approve of your actions," she said, "But it is clear to me now that you did not mean any harm; your intentions were not to make us the object of scandal and gossip. You only wanted to appear as something that you were not; and used a poor means of accomplishing your motive."

Kitty was quick to support her sister's opinion, and added, desolately, that she had only been afraid of appearing dull and provincial to the splendid people of the _ton_. She was able to convince her sister that she had not meant to lie, but rather only _suggest_ certain untruths; once so suggested, she found that her companions had allowed each story to take on a life of its own, and they had quite run away in gossip.

"I am sure, Lizzy, I did not mean to say that Mary and Lord Brereton had formed any attachment—but once every one believed it was so, how interested they were! I am ashamed to say that I delight in their attentions as ill-founded as they were."

"I cannot fault you for that!" cried Elizabeth. "It is as much my fault as anyone else's.—I have realised, Kitty, that mamma has been very remiss in giving you your full allowance of attention and care; it is only natural that you should long to be the center of such public admiration when you have gotten so little of it at home. And I do believe that Mr. Warren was taking advantage of you—indeed of all of us!—and that it was _he_ who wished to make it appear that there was a closeness between you. No doubt he was trying to cover his sullied reputation with the blanket of our good name."

"It does not matter," sighed Kitty, "For our name is ruined; there is not a person in town who thinks us any thing less than disgraceful."

"_That_ is the fault of Caroline Bingley," said Elizabeth darkly, for I have had a letter today from Mrs. Montagu, who is a dear friend of mine, and she has written that Caro has spread her poison over every thing. You cannot be blamed for Caro's jealousy and ill-nature."

"No," said Kitty, "I can only be blamed for wishing to appear something I was not."

"That is true—and Kitty, there is no shame in being a poor country girl, as long as you are kind and cordial and upstanding. Indeed, I feel no shame in the fact that papa is only master of Longbourn, and mamma has relations in Cheapside. And Darcy feels it even less than _I. _He has said on many occasions that it is my freshness, and untrained ways, that first attracted his ardour."

Kitty gave a sigh, for she had begun to think that perhaps it had been the same with Wyeth; he had never been so kind to her than at the very beginning of their acquaintance, when she was new in town. He had been so protective of her, in her new situation, and so understanding of her natural shyness! _Could_ he have preferred her simple, dull ways to her put-upon sparkling manners and her wild stories?

No—Kitty decided, it could not be so! Had he not been set to marry Miss Evanston, who, from all accounts of her, had been a most lively, engaging woman? It could not be that Wyeth should have loved _her_, and then turned around and bestowed his affections on one who was so unlike her in every way! She began to think that Wyeth had never felt any fondness for her at all, and it had all been a figment of her imagination. She tortured herself in this thought, and wandered listlessly around the grounds, so miserable, that all the beauty was spoilt for her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eliza Darcy was happy to be home; she was happier still two or three days later, when the greatest object of her affection was presented before her—her husband Darcy had come!

She threw herself into his arms and he caught her there, and even after several years of matrimony, their affection for each other was as great as it had ever been. After their initial greeting, they spoke only of each other, and the change's they saw in the countenance of each, though their journey had been short, and the wild longing they had had all the while to be in the other's presence. He inquired after his children; _she_ gave him the full report, and _then_ they turned the topic to Mrs. Darcy's sisters.

Fitzwilliam Darcy listened to the story with an expression that could not help but betray his mirth. When Eliza had finished telling it to him, he could not help smiling, and she threw up her hands at him in exasperation.

"Oh! Sir, what can you mean by laughing?"

"I mean, Lizzy, that I think it all very funny."

"Funny! When our good name has been so ill-used, and made into an object of scorn and gossip! It is a good thing Georgiana has already married; I should hate if this could hurt her chances—and as for our Anne and Georgina, well, I should not doubt that this will come back when they are making their own matches. And yet you laugh!"

"Dear Lizzy," Darcy said, with real affection for his wife, "It is of no consequence to _me_. Georgiana _is_ married, and as for Anne and Georgina, I do not want them ever to be married to a man who would hang his future on gossip that (as it will be at the time they think of matching) is very much in the past. Anyone who makes much of this tempest in the tea-pot is a boring, stodgy sort of person, and I do not care to know them."

"Oh, but there was a time when you would have made much of it, sir; and held it against our credit!"

"Yes—and at that time I was the stodgiest and most boring sort of person alive; you have changed me, Lizzy, and I am glad for it. Do not fret. It will all die down next month, when some lady or other wears a gown to _assemblee_ which is two seasons past the fashion, or when some mamma sets her sights higher for her daughter than she ought. And it will happen, and all this will be a thing of the past, and well-forgotten."

"You are too good!" said Eliza warmly, "To shew such clear-headedness and common sense! I have been very silly; I shall stop it at once."

"I thank you for that; but, wife, if you were the silliest creature alive—much sillier than your mamma and three sisters put together, I should still love you, for your natural prettiness, and on the strength and beauty of your fine eyes."

Elizabeth cast him a loving glance from her much-admired eyes, and reflected that she had really the best husband in the world; and the things that had worried her in town did not seem so terrible at Pemberley—especially not now _he_ was there with her.


	16. Chapter 16

Kitty grew paler and more unhappy every day. She took long walks around the grounds at Pemberley, thinking of Mr. Wyeth, and the way that he had smiled at her, the cordial attentions he had given her, the protective air he had bestowed upon her, away back at the start of their acquaintance. She saw now that she would rather have these things from him than his false admiration for things she was not. In any event, she had neither his attentions nor his admirations, now, and she supposed she never would again.

It was upon returning from one of these walks that she sat herself down at the pianoforte and began to play. Mary was the most studious and diligent players of that instrument among the Bennet girls—and erstwhile Bennet girls—but Kitty's ruder talent could handle a simple country air, the music to which had been left behind by Miss Georgiana Darcy. She sounded very charming and sweet, and the floating strains of music caused a certain visitor to Pemberley to stop in the yard and listen for a moment in deep contemplation.

"There are few things in life more worthwhile than a love for the arts," he pontificated to a few geese who wandered past, "And a love for music is most capital indeed. I am sure that it is one of my dear cousins who is so haply effecting such a sound; I should be sure to complement her on her talents, in the way that ladies are so fond of being complemented."

The visitor climbed the steps and was admitted to the house; upon being shewn into the parlour, he made a pompous, courtly bow to Kitty, who jumped up in surprise.

"Mr. Collins!" she cried. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Do sit down," replied Mary, cordially. "I shall run and fetch my sister and Mr. Darcy, sir."

"You need not fetch any one," replied Mr. Collins, "For it is Miss Catherine whom I have come to see."

"Oh! Mary, do not leave me!" Kitty caught fast and held her sister in her place; seeing that Kitty would not let her go, Mr. Collins had no choice but to address himself to the both of them.

"Miss Catherine," he began, very importantly, "Allow me to console you on your current predicament."

Kitty flushed. "I am sure, sir, that I do not know what you mean."

Mr. Collins's smile was infuriating in its superiority. "Cousin! Can you really be so unfamiliar of the predicament of which I speak? Surely you are aware of the _scandale_ you have caused in town; I have a great many acquaintances who have written me of your behavior, and it has not escaped me that you are, indeed, almost utterly friendless in the world!"

Kitty gasped; even Mary stiffened. "Hateful man," she murmured. "I _will_ go fetch Eliza, Kitty, rather than let you be spoken to in such a way."

But Kitty would not turn her loose, and so Mary was made to stay.

Mr. Collins sat down on the sofa, perused the remains of a breakfast tray, and helped himself to a crust of toast. That being consumed, he leant back and surveyed his cousins with a critical air.

"I am sure you have heard of the death of my dear wife," he sighed mournfully, hanging his head. "In child bed, most distressing. But I wonder," Mr. Collins looked at Kitty, "If _you_ can understand what a happy coincidence her demise is likely to effect upon your own life!"

Mary gasped again; Kitty tried to keep hold of her manners. "We did indeed hear your sad news," said Kitty soberly. "And we were brought very low to hear about it, for every one in my family has long considered the Lucases among our close friends. But you are wrong in thinking, sir, that poor Charlotte's death should have any effect upon _my_ own present situation, beyond making me feel properly grieved."

Mr. Collins smiled again. "My dear," he shook his head at her, "I am come to tell you that my patroness, the much esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has brought joy into my life by granting me her blessing in my efforts to marry again."

"Oh," said Kitty, for lack of any thing better to say.

"And so I have come," continued Mr. Collins, "to tell _you_ that you are in the happy position of being my next choice in matrimony."

Again he addressed his remarks to Kitty, who was so stunned by this news that she momentarily let go her grip on Mary's skirts; Mary took this opportunity to flee the room, calling frantically for Darcy. Kitty could not speak at all for a few moments, but, recovering her tongue, tried to bite back her hot response and instead deal in cordiality.

"My dear Mr. Collins," she said hesitantly, "I am not without respect for the great honour you do me. But I am afraid it would be impossible for me to marry you! In fact, I could not marry you if you were the last man on earth, for I do not love you!"

Mr. Collins waved one fat hand. "Love is less than necessary in these affairs. I would be able to provide you with a living to which you were not accustomed, Miss Catherine. I beg you reconsider; do not be too rash, my dear."

"I need not reconsider," Kitty responded. "I _am _sorry—but I shall not marry you."

She was so staunch that Mr. Collins felt quite put out; he withdrew a voluminous handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. When he looked at Kitty again she saw that she had not couched her words in enough pleasantries for him to remain unoffended. He was glaring at her darkly, and she shrank back.

"I had thought," said Mr. Collins cuttingly, "That you would be only too happy at the chance to make a respectable match, given the fact that every one in town has been disgraced—yes, miss, disgraced!—by your recent behavior. You are known across the land as a teller-of-tales—indeed, a liar!—and your association with the unsavory Mr. George Warren has not helped repair your reputation. You will not make a better match than _me_, and you may mark my words! Ungrateful, foolish girl!" He began to advance across the room to Kitty, who ran and took refuge behind a desk.

"Collins, you may stop right there," came a deep voice from the door-way. Kitty looked up gratefully to see Darcy, Mary hiding behind his shoulder. "You have said quite enough. Kitty has given you all the answers you have sought, and so you may go now."

But Mr. Collins had no intention of going. "I feel it is my duty," he said pompously, "To remind my cousin of how outrageous her behavior has been. She does not fully understand the damage that has been affected upon her character, and I would be remiss if I did not enlighten her to it. I am afraid that I…!" He broke off in a yelp as Mr. Darcy crossed the room in one great stride, and with one capable hand applied to the clergyman's neck-cuff, lifted him bodily off the floor!

In this manner Mr. Darcy carried Mr. Collins to the front entryway and deposited him in the drive. The door was shut and barred against him; the servants were instructed to give him no further admittance. Darcy went back to the parlour, where Kitty, overcome by the hour's events, was weeping into her hands.

"Get up, Kitty," he admonished her gently. "And come with me into my study. There is something that I must discuss with you."


	17. Chapter 17

Darcy looked at the miserable girl who sat in the chair across from him; she had been weeping for a full quarter of an hour. He had let her, supposing her rightly overcome by the rude manner in which she had been treated, but the time for tears was up, and so he admonished her sternly, but not without gentleness to dry her eyes.

"I have heard from your sister the events of the past few weeks; and now, Kitty, I would like to hear them from you, to see where the stories match, and where they diverge."

So Kitty began to speak in a halting voice. Darcy was surprised to find that she did not couch her bad behavior in explanations or excuses. She told him the story very plainly and simply, and her deep remorse seemed to touch his heart.

"You see, I did not want Mr. Wyeth to think me uninteresting," she finished, wringing her hands. "And so I—misrepresented myself. Oh! Some things I meant to say—but once said, others misunderstood the meaning I had intended. I did not mean to tell anyone that Mary had any sort of attachment with Lord Brereton. But once the idea was out, and had twisted around, I did nothing to correct it."

Darcy studied her. "And did such efforts make you happy, Kitty?"

"No," Kitty said. "I am very miserable, indeed, for it is clear that Mr. Wyeth has less than no respect for me, now, and I did admire him greatly—_do_."

Darcy sat back in his chair, and folded his hands; he scrutinized Kitty for the better part of ten minutes. Finally he opened a desk drawer and withdrew a letter.

"Kitty," he said, "I can see that you are very sorry for your actions, and that you have had to learn your lesson the hard way. It is a valuable lesson, and I feel you have suffered greatly in its attainment. I should hardly want to make you suffer more but I do feel that you should have a look at this letter, which I received only this morning."

Kitty took the letter from his out-stretched hand, now knowing that it must have come from Mr. Wyeth. With a trembling hand she unfolded the page and read.

_MY DEAR SIR: _

_I am sure you have by now heard of the events which have recently embroiled your two younger sisters in town; I take my pen to write to you today in hopes of explaining my part in all of it. It cannot have escaped your knowledge that I was acquainted with the Misses Mary and Catherine Bennet during their short sojourn in London. And I do not hesitate to tell you that upon first meeting them I found them the most charming of ladies. _

_Miss Catherine especially, it must be said, captured my admiration from the start. She was a fresh, pretty girl, full of sweet country manners and wholly without affectation. My good sir, it is almost certain that you must be also acquainted with my erstwhile engagement to one Mrs. Hare—formerly known as Miss Amy Evanston. She is unfortunately deceased now, so I shall attempt not to slander her character when she is not here to defend it. _

_I shall only tell you, sir, that despite my public actions toward my fiancée, the idea of marriage with her was a notion that was completely repugnant to me. Miss Evanston—Mrs. Hare—was a woman who preferred the sophistications of town to the country life that I have so long held dear. The engagement between us was formed at the mutual desire of our parents; I will go so far as to tell you in confidence that I was not badly disappointed when Miss Evanston abandoned me for another suitor. Any marriage between us must have been an unhappy one, for we were not well-suited to one another. _

_The whole affair quite put me off the idea of matrimony for a long while—that is, until I met Miss Catherine. Such a sweet, charming woman would certainly be a worthwhile wife, I thought. I will even go so far as to say that I had fallen quite in love with her, within only a few days of her acquaintance. _

At this, Kitty put the letter down, two spots of color showing in her pale cheeks. Oh, Wyeth had cared—he had loved! She would have expected such information to be a balm to her troubled soul. But it was not—it only served to show Kitty the vastness of what she had lost, and by her own actions, too.

Unwillingly, she raised the paper and read further.

_You may imagine my chagrin when I found that Miss Catherine's sweetness, her goodness, her simple uncomplicatedness, was not native to her true nature, but an affectation of the most unexpected degree. My good sir, I have often heard of women who play the coquette in order to obtain their share of male ardour. But I was unable to expect such a thing of your sister. However, I was not able to deny it for very long. Her true character was so revealed in such a short time as to dash all my hopes of ever making her my wife. _

_I write to you now so that you may revise your ill opinion of me (if one has, indeed, formed). Sir, you are an admired acquaintance. I should have liked to call you 'brother' some day. Please rest assured that I did not intend to hurt your sister's feelings, or to 'lead her on.' I only knew that I could not allow myself to be attached again to a lady whom I knew would never bring me happiness. I am quite heartsick and low over the whole affair—not as much over Miss Catherine's physical defection, but over the fact that she did not turn out to be the sweet girl I wanted so badly for her to be. I did love her greatly—and do still feel some affection for her, despite my attempts to quell it. But it is not enough. _

_My best wishes for the continued health of your family, I remain your faithful servant, etc, etc. _

When Kitty had finished reading, there were tears in her eyes. She gave the letter back to Darcy, who was looking at her with concern.

"Kitty," he said suddenly, "If you like I will write to Wyeth, and try to explain to him what has occurred. Perhaps this could restore you to his previous good opinion of you."

"No," said Kitty very certainly. "It may only serve to bring me lower in his eyes—and I would not want to risk that. Thank you all the same."

She rose from her chair and went unseeingly to the window, where she passed the remainder of the day listening to Mary play the pianoforte, and Lydia prattle about the state of her shabby dresses. But Kitty hardly heard them. She said, over and over, "He did care. He did," and was surprised again at how little comfort that knowledge brought her. For having cared and caring are two entirely different things.


End file.
